Needing You
by Rabidwolflerker
Summary: Johnlock (John/Sherlock) Smut, Minor death. *Spoilers for Season 3* Sherlock had not been the same since coming back to London. Voices of the dead screaming in his mind. When John finds out, he goes to help his friend, but when Sherlock reveals a huge secret, life as John knows it changes forever. Will he keep the life he has, or give up everything for the broken detective.
1. The Text

A light breeze was blowing through the London streets as John Watson made his way home. He felt a vibration in his pocket, so he reached in and grabbed his phone. The name 'Greg Lestrade' glowed brightly on the small screen.

"Huh." John mumbled to himself as he opened to the text to read it. He did not get texts from Lestrade very often.

Listen can you talk to Sherlock, he did something today that freaked me out.-GL

What did he do this time? -JW

We wrapped up the case; he excused himself for a moment but was taking a while so I

Went around looking for him. Found him in an alley head leaning against a wall, he was crying John.-GL

Sherlock crying? That does sound troublesome. Any reason why he might have been crying? -JW

If I knew I wouldn't be asking you.-GL

Have you two been talking lately? I just figured because you weren't on cases as much anymore.-GL

It has been a bit harder lately. You don't suppose it is because I have not been around as much. -JW

It might run a bit deeper than that.-GL

I will make sure to drop by Baker Street later to talk to him. -JW

Thank-you. He won't take my calls I thought he might listen to you.-GL

That is a bit unusual I dare say. -JW

I haven't seen him look that distressed in a long time.-GL

I do hope he is well. I do worry about him sometimes. -JW

We all do.-GL

Give him a text? You might have more luck than me.-GL

Yeah, of course -JW

[To Sherlock]

Hi Sherlock -JW

[delayed] Do you need anything?-SH

I just wanted to know how you are doing. Any interesting cases? -JW

Just closed one with Lestrade, double homicide.-SH

And the goldfish was missing from the bowl.-SH

I'm fine.-SH

He said, well, he said that you were a bit upset -JW

Oh.-SH

He told you.-SH

He was worried, and so am I Sherlock -JW

Worrying isn't an efficient use of your time.-SH

Well, Sherlock, you are my friend, and friends look after each other. Is there something

You wanted to talk about? You can tell me, you know. -JW

I know I can tell you, you've extended that offer multiple times.-SH

You act as though I'm incapable of crying.-SH

It is just a bit unusual though, you have to admit. -JW

It's a normal human function am I not allowed those?-SH

Well, yes you are. You just never really express normal human functions. For you to feel something deeply enough for you to be brought to tears, it must be important, and as your friend, I just wanted to look out for you is all. -JW

[delayed] It just built up and I couldn't shove it down anymore.-SH  
There.-SH

I can understand that Sherlock, it is fine. -JW

I'm sure you can.-SH

It's not your business just let me sort it out.-SH

Fine. I will drop by later though. -JW

No!-SH

Well, why not? -JW

You don't live here anymore, maybe I'm busy.-SH

It will just be for a minute Sherlock. I am going to be down that way anyways, and I have not seen you for a while. -JW

Yes I'm aware we haven't seen each other thank-you.-SH

So, now we can. What is the trouble? -JW

Because you're only seeing me because Lestrade ran to you telling you I was crying.-SH

That isn't true Sherlock. I was planning on dropping by anyway. -JW

Rubbish.-SH

You can't you're not allowed.-SH

I'm not allowed? Really Sherlock, what is going on? -JW

I'm still crying that's what's going on so leave me alone.-SH

Sherlock, please. Just let me come help you. -JW

How would you be able to.-SH

Talking helps. You can talk to me. Face to face. -JW

I don't want you seeing me like this.-SH

I will think no less of you. You have seen me in bad times. -JW

You're already on your way aren't you.-SH

Stupid stubborn idiot.-SH

I am already at the door. -JW

You still have your key.-SH

Yes I do. -JW


	2. The Confessions

Sherlock groaned tossing his phone and hearing it hit the wall with a satisfying clatter, he felt his composure inch away the closer he slid to the floor, hands raked through his hair tugging at his curls trying to force himself to stop. The misery in him had exploded. It was agonizing, scraping at his mind and heart all day with raw claws that tore through the skin. He sobbed heavily hearing John's footsteps approach.

John reached the top of the stairs, reached for the door knob, but stopped as he heard the sobs coming from his friend behind the door. John had never heard Sherlock so distressed, and the feeling sat hard in the pit of his stomach. He took a deep breath to try and compose himself before he slowly opened to door to reveal a most pitiful scene. His friend looked broken, and the sight pierced through John's heart like stinging metal. He walked carefully over to Sherlock's side.

"Sherlock?" John asked gently as he slowly approached him.

Sherlock's shoulders slumped what little dignity was holding them up as he heard John's voice.

"What." he spat coldly. His attempt at indifference was severely compromised by his appearance and shaking tone.

"Just leave me be John this isn't...it's not your business." he gulped flinching as John knelt beside him. He couldn't bring himself to lift his head or look at the other man.

John felt cold. Seeing Sherlock like this caused him a pain he could not explain. He laid his hand softly on Sherlock's shoulder.

"It might not be my business, but I am here for you regardless."

"Well isn't that thoroughly useless," Sherlock snarled already on the defensive, like a wounded animal backed into a corner grasping at the last bit of aggression to ward off others.

"Maybe, maybe not." John said as he sat down. He looked around and saw Sherlock's phone smashed upon the ground.

"Whether you want to talk or not, I am here, and not going anywhere."

Sherlock slowly lifted his head following John's gaze to the cracked pieces of technology.

"It felt good to break something." He explained in a raw voice.

John shrugged. "In times of sorrow or anger, breaking something feels necessary, and very good."

Sherlock gulped feeling thickness in his throat. "It was either that or my own bones."

"Yeah, let's not do that." John said. Sherlock's comment shook him deeply, but he put on the brave front of a soldier, and carried on.

"What is it that happened Sherlock. Please talk to me." John said tenderly, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

"You're always so boring," Sherlock commented weakly trying to fish for a joke just falling short.

"Don't you have somewhere to be." he dismissed bitterly. "At home with Mary perhaps and not sitting on the floor with a crying adult?"

"No, not really." John said flatly. "I messaged Mary and told her I would be here for a bit." He looked Sherlock over as he talked. His tear stricken face looked so full of pain it hurt John to look him in the eyes.

"I am here for as long as I need to be."

Sherlock internally rolled his eyes. _Of course he did_.

"And you told her why?" he asked flatly humiliation creeping on his face.

"No, I left it out." John said with a half-smile. "She didn't need to know."

Taking in a grateful breath he held a small flat smile of gratitude.

"I don't think telling you is the best idea." Sherlock explained slowly.

"Oh, nothing you could say could ever change the way I see you. You are, well, you are brilliant you know." John said with a reassuring tone. He needed to know what could affect the great Sherlock Holmes in such a way as this.

Sherlock let out a short empty laugh.

"You can stop looking at me like that..." he muttered, "like I'm incapable of cracking that would help for a start." He sighed looking at John carefully. "As always you don't ask the right questions, not what who."

John's heart sank. He had a feeling, but he had hoped that he was wrong.

"Sherlock, I know I have not been around very much lately..." John started but he could not bring himself to finish his sentence. If he was wrong about this, Sherlock would never let it go. Sherlock shut his eyes for the first time unsure what John would say. "Finish the sentence." He urged curiously ignoring his shaking body.

John took a deep breath. "Things have been different since you returned; there is no doubt about it. I'm married now, and with a baby on the way. I know that I have been round less and less. I wish I could see you more, I really do. You must know that." John said, voice shaking a little. Remaining calm in difficult situations was what he was trained for, but this was Sherlock. It all felt wrong. So much worse than it normally would.

"You think I broke down because of your happiness?" Sherlock asked after a few moments of silence, he dipped his head.

"I'll admit not...having you here has made this more than difficult and if you had been around I probably wouldn't have ended up like this, but that's only because you would have told me to stop being an idiot and talk." he blinked away tears still spilling. "but you think that little of me? That your happiness would make me misanthropic?"

"Not my happiness Sherlock, but perhaps the lack of my company?" John muttered. "Look, now I seem very full of myself." John laughed lightly. "I know it is hard for you to believe, but I am not stupid Sherlock. I would never think that little of you."

"A lack of your company is never desired," Sherlock commented twisting his hands together. "You can stop feeling guilty it's not why I'm like this."

John felt a weight lift off his chest.

"Then please Sherlock, stop messing with my head. I want to help you."

"Your head's being messed with?!" Sherlock snapped in a rare display of unadulterated rage.

"Whoa" John jumped with surprise. "Please Sherlock, calm down." John wrapped his arm around the man who was both in extreme rage and sorrow.

"I didn't mean anything from it. I just want to help." John felt cold. He was trying to keep calm, but it was getting harder.

Sherlock stiffened at John's touch his breathing growing ragged.

"Well you can't fix this."

"Maybe not, but everything is better when talked out. I never should have left you alone to get like this." John said sadly. He spoke partly to himself, and partly to Sherlock.

"I shouldn't have let myself get involved then I wouldn't have gotten like this." Sherlock commented softly.

"You always get involved, that is kind of who you are." John said softly. "Come on Sherlock. Please."

"Involved with him," Sherlock mumbled twisting his face like he was swallowing a pill

John took a deep breath. Sometimes dealing with Sherlock was a slow and painful process. Much like speaking to a child.

"Please continue." John said, rubbing Sherlock's back gently.

"It was...I was being irritable and selfish, I contacted him by all rights he should have ignored me." Sherlock spoke with difficulty as he eyed John. He knew that talking was difficult when so much of their closeness came from unspoken understanding.

"Back at university, when I used to just ruin people's lives because I was bored." he spoke with such spite directed to him, "back when I started using, he and I would...never mind just go to Mary."

John sighed. He knew had hard this must have been for Sherlock. He was one of those guys that did not like talking things out, but this time it seemed needed.

"I am not leaving Sherlock. Not until I get the full story." John said sternly. He did not like pressuring Sherlock like this, but it had to be done.

Sherlock scowled, he wasn't getting rid of John clearly.

"You know I avoid all conversations about my personal life as if they are attempts on my life." he bit out. "Not a word to others about this. Let them infer or think or believe what they want of me I don't care I just want anything they talk about to remain speculation." He held John's gaze firmly scanning his face for a fault.

"He and I were involved, significantly so...it was a troubling and damaging and unhealthy stupid endeavor for the both of us and I was alone and unable to sleep because of, of those two years away so I contacted him and-"

John carefully hugged Sherlock. "It is okay." he said gently. "I know how hard this is for you."

Sherlock shuddered, a face of contempt painted on his features.

"I couldn't get in contact with him I couldn't...I couldn't see him I can't anymore I can't, nobody can." His words were rough. "I didn't even bother to find out, I smashed up his life when we were 20 and I left and when I wanted something I...and he." he trailed looking helpless.

"Everyone makes mistakes Sherlock." John said trying to comfort his friend. "It is the mistakes that shape us to who we are. What did you do Sherlock. Tell me." John hated this. He hated how sad Sherlock was, and he hated forcing him to talk about his life. Sometimes things need to happen though. He knew that.

"I couldn't pin point it." Sherlock admitted lowly. "We were the worst thing for each other, still would be I imagine, but the difference was he had a kind heart I have a cold one." He spoke slowly almost not present it was easier if it wasn't real. "And I never gave him a thought, not until the heaviness started drowning me and I tried to just use him again, that was my intent to just use him until I got better but...he's dead. He died John, he died three years ago."

John looked at the ground. It suddenly made sense. "It is okay. Things like that happened Sherlock. You didn't know." John tried his best to comfort his friend, but he was just not sure as to what he should even say.

"I didn't care to see him until I wanted something again. I would shoot up near him or we'd go somewhere to sit and smoke. I always drew my hand away when he tried to hold it or drew my lips away when he tried to kiss me in public because I knew it bothered him. I made him care about me when I was at my most difficult and awful and destructive and then I didn't give him a thought until I thought it was time to do that again." Sherlock's voice gritted and his fists balled. "What sort of a person does that make me?"

"Well, a sociopath. I am not going to lie to you, you are too good for that. What you did was really messed up and cruel." John spoke calmly; weary to not set Sherlock off again. "But it was the past, Sherlock. Everyone does stupid, awful things they wish they could take back. You need to remember it, so as to not repeat the action, but you cannot let it rule who you are."

Sherlock stilled not daring to even let himself breathe, even for a fraction.

"Don't ever call me a sociopath again." He bit out, sounding thoroughly dangerous and on edge.

"Oh, so it is okay when you do it..." John trailed off. Dealing with Sherlock was indeed like dealing with a child. "Sorry." He said.

"Get out." He spat coldly looking ahead and refusing to even glance at John. He dug his nails deep into his palms, hissing as they broke his skin. The distraction helped. It helped from his shaking and sobbing

"Sherlock" John tried to reason.

"Oh what?" Sherlock grumbled leaping to his feet, pacing erratically. "What? What! Make your damn point don't just say my name!"

"What did you want me to do? Lie to you? Patronize you?!" John shouted. He had worked hard to maintain calm, but he couldn't any longer.

"Tell you that what you did was okay? You deserve better than that, and you know it. Stop being such a baby Sherlock. You messed up. People do that. I know you think you are better than everyone else. The great Sherlock Holmes. Stop beating yourself up for something you can no longer do anything about. Stop acting like an infant when I am trying to help. Damn you!"

"Don't you think I know I messed up?" He choked. "I am well aware of how truly vile I am, if I could delete the plethora of mistakes I've made from my mind John I would." Sherlock snapped back his chest puffed and back straight as the two men faced off shouting.

"I didn't know how to cope with somebody actually wanting to be near me so I went for the power option like the selfish disgusting heartless person I can be. Victor wasn't a saint by any standards don't you confuse yourself into think he was a sweet naive boy."

John calmed himself. "I was just trying to help. That is what I do Sherlock." He turned his back on the man so full of hurt, opened the door and stepped outside. He wanted to help, but he couldn't it seemed, so it was better for him to leave then punch Sherlock in the face.

Sherlock kicked the wall with the back of his foot. "Damn it!" he growled wincing as he heard the door shut he looked out the window seeing John lean against the front, not moving. Seized by his own self-hatred he stalked down the stairs pulling open the door. "You have something else to say." he snarled pointedly. "It's written on your face."

"No Sherlock, I don't. I mean I do, but not when you are acting like this." John talked slowly. He felt a bit sick. It was not an easy task being the best friend of this man. "Can you just calm down? Just a bit."

Sherlock promptly shut his mouth, jaw clenched and lip curled he swallowed his anger. "Calm." He replied, his voice cracking a bit under restraint. "Go on."

"You know I wasn't saying you were a bad person, and I wasn't saying that he was a good person." John started carefully. "I was just trying to give you an honest answer and help without babying you."

"You called me a sociopath," He blinked a little, the word sounded raw in his throat. "he woul-he did he would say..." Sherlock trailed shifting uncomfortably.

"I am sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you, or bring up anything. It was never my intention." John said. His voice had faded to a sort of loud whisper.

"I know I just, didn't know how to react." Sherlock looked oddly stuck in a small state of painful nostalgia.

"I just played what he'd say on a loop so I thought shouting at you might drown it out."

"Glad I could help." John said with a pained smile, and a small, dark chuckle. "I am sorry Sherlock. Maybe I should have just let you be. I was just a bit worried."

Sherlock rubbed unconsciously where the faded track mark scars sat in the crease of his elbow.

"No just...stay." He begged gently, "I doubt you'd manage to repeat any of his other words I...I won't send you out like that again if you do."

"Yeah, okay." John said nodding his head, and walking back up the stairs to the flat. "Of course."

Ignoring the way his hands shook and the dried blood on the inside of his palms, he cleared his throat.

"Tea?" Sherlock pressed unsure how to behave. "How's Mary?" he kept the pleasantness simple. He was fine he could ignore this.

John was a little surprised by Sherlock's sudden change. "Love some." He said, sitting down in the chair that he always sat in. "She's uh, she's good." John said, studying Sherlock carefully.

"And the baby?" He pulled John's usual mug from the cupboard spooning sugar in his own cup. Tea making was methodical. He could do it and distract himself listening to the flicks of switches and clank of cups.

"You're studying me, stop."

John quickly looked away from Sherlock, and around the room. "Just fine." He said.

"Excellent, and she wants to find out the sex and you don't." He pointed out, keeping his deductions minimal, conversational, dull. He frowned. "You're still doing it."

"Yeah, that's right." John awkwardly shifted in his chair. He was trying not to think about Sherlock, or what had happened earlier, but that was all he could think about, and Sherlock knew it. He always knew.

Sherlock glowered a little, pouring the tea. "I can hear you thinking and it's exhausting...just." He ran his fingers through his hair sighing. "Say it. Say what you're thinking it's too...unnatural to have a boundary between us."

"I am just worried about you is all." John said plainly. "I don't know what it is you want me to say."

Sherlock paused for a moment. "I'm not sure either." He admitted softly, handing John his cup. He bit his lip. "I'm not going to cry again if that's what you're worried about."

"No, not at all." John said sipping his tea. Hot. He was a little worried, just because he had never felt more helpless, and it is not a feeling he liked.

"You don't need to help me John, it's not a thing that can be helped. I'm hardly in mourning."

"I am just here for the tea." John said jokingly. "And good company." He smiled and raised his cup before taking another sip.

Sherlock scoffed, "I think we established I am awful company."

"No, well maybe for some people." John said with a shrug. "You are fine company to me."

"Now that you don't have to be near me most of the time." Sherlock replied with an arched brow. "You've forgotten what an annoying dick I can be, as you put it."

John laughed. "It wasn't so bad." He said reminiscing on his days at Baker Street.

"Most people would say chasing murderers is not ideal, but you're hardly most people," Sherlock fiddled with his cup delicately. "You were right." He uttered. "Before, you were right."

"I'm right a lot; you have to be more specific." John said with a half-smile.

"You were right about 10 minutes ago when I was shouting at you." Sherlock specified, "Though yes you can be correct at a high frequency I suppose."

John sipped his tea, and nodded his head. "That's good then." he said.

"Is it?" Sherlock forced, "is it really good that you were right, that you spend your time with a cruel man."

"You are not cruel Sherlock." John said with exasperation. "I wasn't saying that you were. I was just saying- oh never mind."

"What?" Sherlock lifted his head confused, "I...you're...you're angry again I, I don't know why."

"Not angry." John said. He stared hard at the wall then turned to Sherlock. "Just stop beating yourself down, it is not like you at all."

Without thought, a large bout of laughter escaped Sherlock. It bordered manic. "You really believe that? I had everyone else fooled but you John, really, even you?"

"You always seemed pretty full of yourself to me." John said. He was trying hard not to set Sherlock off again. It was horrible the first time.

"I have a confidence that I'm correct, because I always am." Sherlock replied coolly, "it's different."

"See, that right there." John said. "That doesn't sound like a man who hates on himself."

"And somebody who injects drugs directly into their veins is clearly the picture of a person with a lot of care of their self-preservation."

"It was a long time ago you did that, and people change. I guess I just never really put too much thought into it."

Sherlock studied John fascinated by what he was learning.

"Do you imagine the first time the word freak was used in reference to me another person said it?" he posed the question like he was a teacher in class. "Or it was something I concluded of my own accord?"

"I just assumed it was someone else." John answered honestly. "I mean, even now, people call you that a lot." Just thinking about made John's blood boil.

"I am aware" Came the quick response, "though it's hardly original." He sighed, almost disappointed.

"I liked a lot of things John, I assure you myself isn't one of them."

"Sorry to hear that." John said. He felt sadden by Sherlock's words. "You're one of the things I like though, so you can't be bad."

"And you're one of the things I like, but I suggest you re-evaluate your list if I'm on it."

John snickered "I think my list is just fine."

Sherlock's lip twitched in distaste. "Then you're an idiot."

"That's very nice of you." John said with a teasing smile.

"Well I'm so glad this is very funny for you."

"Sorry, not funny." John said, returning to a serious tone.

"Maybe a little." Sherlock offered, attempting a smile but grimacing instead. "Now you know how I...am." He ended awkwardly. "Cruelty and all."

"Honestly, I still see you the same as I always did. An arrogant dick, but a fantastic genius as well. Nothing has changed." John tried to convince Sherlock of this by making the most censer face possible.

"I just don't believe you. How can you hear what I did to him and be fine?"

"I can forgive a good man for a stupid mistake. That simple"

"I'm not a good man, John." Sherlock deadpanned simply.

"You have helped countless people by solving impossible cases. That makes you a good man." John tried to explain.

"For a selfish purpose, you save the life I solve the case." Sherlock tightened his grip on the cup, swatting Victor's words out of his head. "Shut up not now." he muttered to his thoughts

"Think what you will, and I will do the same." John said. He was worrying about Sherlock quite a bit, but he was not sure how to help. It was an awful feeling of helplessness.

"We normally do anyway." Sherlock huffed, taking John's empty mug and his full one to the sink. Not to wash not for manners, just to take a breath for a moment to have another methodical distraction from the chatter in his head. "I said shut up!"

"Are you okay?" John could not stop himself from asking.

"Fine" He called kicking the cupboard with his foot a little as he heard the high crack in his voice. "Fine just...deleted where the detergent is."

"Oh, um, okay." John said. He knew Sherlock was lying, but he wasn't going to call him out on it.

"Stop it, stop it just shut up!" Sherlock gritted out under his breath, the words coming out like a muttered growl. He fiddled with the mug, jumping a bit as the words got louder and the mug slipped from his hands, clattering into three pieces.

"Shut up!"

John jumped out of his chair and ran to Sherlock. "You are not okay. Please, sit down." he grabbed Sherlock's arm and tried to lead him back to the living room.

Sherlock fought against it initially a bit like a bratty child before thumping into the chair sitting at the tip of it in anxiety.

"It's fine this happens sometimes, normally it's your voice though."

"Oh, well. Just sit." John said making sure that Sherlock was stable before sitting down in his own chair.

"You don't think its fine." Sherlock called in his deductive tone. "You think it's abnormal."

"Yeah, maybe." John said "I am just trying to be supportive right now though, so I will call you out on it later."

"Oh, good to know." He quipped sarcastically, dropping his head. Sherlock pulled his slender fingers together at the nape of his neck, his leg quivering as his emotions rutted around inside him like poison.

"What can I do?" John asked sympathetically. "How can I help?"

"Haven't figured that out yet, believe me your sarcastic comments in my head on a crime scene aren't desired. If I knew how to stop it I would have long ago." Sherlock shivered a little. "It's never been his voice before. I don't like this."

"Have you tried blocking it out?" John felt silly to ask, but he was unsure of what else to do.

"It's like a knife, it cuts through my thought process." Sherlock explained wearily, "It wasn't...it...this is why I couldn't sleep and now he's in here and that's not right. The man meant nothing to me."

"Maybe it is just guilt." John suggested.

"I didn't kill him," Sherlock growled with a rigid back.

"I never said you did. I meant maybe it was guilt for how you treated him." John explained.

"Oh because you're the poster boy for healthy relationships, how many of your girlfriend's names did you forget?"

"Are we really doing this?" John asked. "Come on Sherlock. You know what I mean."

"Yes but why does it have to be what he used to say?" The detective finally looked up, as though he was in physical pain, "For god sake why /that/ of all things"

"What is it that he is saying to you?"

"'I don't understand why can't you just be normal, that's what I signed up for. A normal boyfriend. You can't feel anything. It's like you're a sociopath. Sometimes I think you're a machine, if I cut you I doubt you'd bleed.'" Sherlock's voice trembled.

"I wish I had some really good advice on what to do. I am sorry, I don't." John said rubbing his forehead.

"Of course you don't." Sherlock's voice gained a steely edge. "Why would you? Why would you have any idea what to do anymore, at all. It's not like you've been here."

"I would if I could, and I will be more often." John said looking deeply into Sherlock's eyes. "You have been there for me, and I will return that gesture."

A foul resigned expression appeared on his face, he took a small breath.

"You're going to have a child, don't be ridiculous. I'll go to a doctor's, get some pills for the sleeping and I'll be fine."

"It will be a while still. I have a few months." John explained. "It is something we both need, trust me."

"If anything I need to cope with the fact you're not here anymore."

"I am not here anymore," John motioned around the flat. "but I am still here."

"You're not either, why do you think I wanted to call him in the first place."

"This was during the time you were "dead" right?" John asked. It had been a long day, and he wanted to make sure he had all the details correct.

"When I was dead I was preoccupied with...injuries and work," He corrected, keeping a level head. "I came back and I didn't think...I never imagined those two years would make things difficult and they did, and the flat was empty and I wanted somebody near me."

"You could have called me. No, I can't be here all the time, but we can still solve cases and have conversations. Like now, but not like this." John explained.

"No I couldn't have." He corrected a little sadly. "I...I slept well, believe it or not, when I was with him, if I wasn't high I mean, I just thought if he was there I'd be able to stop having nightmares." Sherlock grimaced at the truly pitiful way he sounded.

"I am sorry, I really am. I had horrible nightmares when I got back from Afghanistan. I still do sometimes. I know it is different, but similar maybe."

"No it's a...normal parallel," Sherlock assured, standing to try and walk the tension out.

"I wish I hadn't slept so well when I was with him." He commented off handily, the faintest hit of regret in his voice.

"People sleep better when they feel safe." John stated. "Maybe that was part of it?"

"No sane person would feel safe with that man, much like no sane person would feel loved with me." He argued. "I don't know...I honestly don't understand it, I just liked having his arm around mine in private."

"Every wants something like that." John sighed "Have you thought about, well, looking for someone?"

Sherlock's fingers clutched tight on his forearm at John's words. "Sorry, what?" He replied vaguely, ignoring the tension in him.

"Well." John shifted in his chair. "Have you thought about, you know, dating?"

"I don't date," Sherlock replied dully.

"Well, maybe you should. It would clear your mind a bit." John said. "Or at least just get another case. You need something."

"Someone." He corrected. "You said something but you meant someone didn't you."

"Yeah, I did." John admitted.

"I do know how to date people." Sherlock replied, almost in pre-emptive defense.

"You sure about that?" John questioned.

"You disagree?"

"Yeah, I would." John said honestly.

"Why?" Sherlock halted his pacing, the question simple and honest between them.

"Well, in all the time I have known you, you have never shown any interest in anyone. One time you went on a date with me. You have a, let's say, 'quirkiness' about you that drives most people insane, and you cannot turn it off." John listed off the many things he thought of.

Sherlock frowned leaning against the wall. "Just because I haven't marched people in front of your face, doesn't mean I haven't had...people, in the time I've known you." He replied. "and we didn't go on a date as you so vocally remind everybody we meet."

"Well sorry then." John said, sitting back in his chair. "I may have been mistaken, but then again I am not sure I was."

"I value privacy and discretion, you didn't even know my preferences for certain until today." He said tapping the wood lightly. "Maybe you weren't, depends what you're referring to."

"Do what you will Sherlock, I know you are going to anyway. I was just suggesting something that may help you."

"I did ask you once, don't think I made my intentions clear though your response was...clear." Sherlock commented ignoring John's words.

"Oh." John looked down at his feet. "I didn't realize."

"Chinese smuggling ring? I said that's what I was suggesting you said no it wasn't." Sherlock shrugged. "No harm done."

"Well, I was going on a date with someone else, your timing really could not have been worse." John stated.

"You're saying it like you would have accepted if you hadn't been trying to get off with Sarah at the time."

"Yeah, maybe." John was trying to look anywhere but Sherlock's face. He could feel his sharp gaze piercing him.

"Don't try and spare my feelings John for god sake it was four years ago, don't pretend you would have said yes." Sherlock paused. "Would you have?"

"Well, yes. I would have." John shuffled his feet back and forth. "When we first met I thought you were absolutely amazing, the way you were able to deduce everything and everyone. It was truly fantastic."

Sherlock took a small breath in feeling his gut wrench. "I really wished you would have said no just now."

"And lie? I don't like lying." John stated flatly.

"You said I hadn't shown interest you...god you're so stupid." Sherlock stuttered.

"Not stupid, you are just hyper intelligent. You forget that a lot."

"Who do you think I've shown an interest in the time you've known me John, hmm?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Besides the people you never met I used because I couldn't think and you wouldn't let me smoke."

"First time out you said you were married to your work. I just assumed you were too busy with your work. I think that was pretty fair to assume." John explained

"Yes work, the work takes precedent always...the work and you." Sherlock muttered, fiddling with a drawer handle.

"Sorry I just didn't realize." John looked Sherlock in the eyes.

"Well it hardly matters now, you have Mary." He cleared his throat keeping the strain in his voice. "So you see why I couldn't...couldn't call now?"

"Yeah, I do." John sat back in his chair, and placed his hands on his forehead.

"I thought Victor could be a replacement." Sherlock shook his head. "Serves me right."

John sighed as he rubbed his eyes a little. He sat up and stretched his back before sitting back down, and turning to Sherlock. "What do you think is the best thing for you to do right now?" he asked.

Sherlock paused in thought. "I don't want to send you away, we just went two years without eac-" he cut himself off. "I don't necessarily think it's fair to Mary if I'm around you and it's hardly fair to other people if I use people like I tried to use Victor again because they're not you."

"I still want to be mates Sherlock." John said seriously. "I will not lose my best friend again."

Sherlock nodded a thank-full, if pained smile appeared on his face. "Thank-you, thank-you for staying then." He croaked. "This is how it happens for me doesn't it? I...I've played every variation out in my head with different people and it always ends like this. They have somebody who deserves them and I shouldn't."

"You do deserve someone though; you just need to take the chance before it is too late." John patted the arm of his chair.

"Yes and the evidence of that is staring me in the face." Sherlock's eyes twitched a little, dropping his head. "I don't mind being alone," he formed his words carefully. "it's being lonely that's the issue."

"Maybe you should just go out more?" John suggested.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I mean, go out. Maybe to the theater or something else. Somewhere where you are around some other people."

"You're aware being around that much useless information and deductions is my own personal hell, yes?"

John laughed. "Yeah I know. I was trying to think of something to help with the loneliness."

"Cases, I'll just take cases if I'm not sleeping then I can't have nightmares and if I don't have nightmares, I don't want somebody there and I don't feel lonely."

"Cases." John clapped his hands "That is good."

"Without you." Sherlock added hastily.

"Oh." John looked away. "Yeah, of course."

"You can come to the ones that are for work, not a distraction." Sherlock sighed at the compromise.

"Good, good." John said with a smile. He felt relieved.

"Do you understand why?"

"Yeah, of course I do." John nodded

There may has well have been an allergic reaction in Sherlock's throat at the rate to which it was closing. "You love her don't you? Say it, I need to hear it."

"I do. I love her." John said looking away. He hated hurting him.

Sherlock's fist clenched a little, the nails once again sinking into his palms. "I lo-" he bit his tongue. No ,he wasn't saying that, he was going to be a grown up. "and I didn't deserve Victor did I, say that to. I deserve to feel guilty."

"No, you see here. You deserve the best. It hurt me so deeply when I thought you had died. I never thought that I would be able to get over the loss. You mean so much to me, you really do. Anyone should feel lucky to be with someone as amazing as you." John said quickly.

"I love you." Sherlock bit out miserably, the words ended in hopelessness like a child trying to get a parent to stay home from work. He hadn't intended it, it had slipped almost bitter-sweet from his mouth at John's kind words. Sherlock slapped his hand over his mouth. "I'm sorry I shouldn't have."

John froze for a moment before words were able to be formed in his mind. "No, it is fine. It's okay."

"It's all fine?" Sherlock drew the words from their first meeting, a wry smile tugging in spite of itself at his lips

"Yeah. It is." John smiled and chuckled.

"Did you never have an inkling that's how I felt?" Sherlock laughed a little. "Unobservant." He teased back to their old tone.

John laughed. "Not a clue. Wish I had though. Like I said, I broke when you left. Mary was there to pick up the pieces, but I never stopped thinking about you, you know. You saw me at your grave." John stopped laughing and looked away. "It wasn't very enjoyable."

Sherlock froze. "I had never wished more than in that moment to say hello. I couldn't...I'm sorry you just, I couldn't risk your life." He winced. "I owe you so many more sorry's John, and I can't give them all to you. I'd be dead before that. So just let me, let you be happy. Just let me, be there for you and Mary that's it." There was a nagged hurt in his voice that he couldn't send away. "But please...please don't say you wish or you would have."

"Yeah, right. I do understand now why you had to. I forgive you, and I definitely want you to still be there for me, and let me be there for you." John said with a half-smile. "Just try to be happy Sherlock. Please."

"Give me enough murders, I'll be happy." He lied, eyes creasing at the forced smile. John could see the lie plain as day on his face. "Thought Victor would just be waiting, thought you would just be waiting but...the world doesn't stop for Sherlock Holmes."

"You are great, but as I told you before; the world revolves around the sun, not you." John said jokingly.

"Pointless knowledge." Sherlock flipped his hand dismissively. "There's not another you somewhere is there?" he asked in a half joking manner.

"No, I am the only me." John said with a slight sting of pain. "Sorry"

"Ah damn, you're opposed me experimenting human cloning, aren't you?" Sherlock whipped around with an over dramatic sigh, he had to up the show he was putting on to try and feel disconnected.

"Just a bit, yeah. Though if someone could do it, you could." John said. He was trying to cheer Sherlock up, but given everything that had been said, he was not sure if complimenting was the best way. He could not think of another one though, so he just hoped for the best.

"Mmm you stopped being impressed at the deductions a while ago John, might want to reel it back, I'm fine." Sherlock bore out his forearm lying it over his eyes, trying to ignore the hot sting of wetness from them.

"Sorry, just trying to- god I don't even know." John said as he flung his head back against the back of the chair.

"It's not an ideal situation I understand." Sherlock's voice deep, bouncing from the walls as he delivered the harsh truth. "But we'll be tip-toeing slightly around each other for a while."

"Lovely, like things weren't weird enough right now." John sighed.

"What with me coming back from the dead and you not knowing how to deal with being married and the eventual reality of fatherhood? While being dragged back into some cases, yes I can see how it's stressful." Sherlock drawled. "However," his words hovered with a pregnant pause, "I said I love you and you didn't say it back so I think out situations are equally awful."

"I did not even realize. I do love you." John froze. How had he let that slip out? "Oh God.." He whispered to himself.

Sherlock stilled. John hadn't realized what he'd said had he. "John," Sherlock whispered. "think about what you said, just now."

"Yeah, I know what I said." John said, deciding it was the best thing to do at this point. "I thought that I had inferred how I felt when I was telling you about the hell I went through losing you. Looks like I am not the only one who misses things." John stated.

"Mary," Sherlock reminded him in and instant though he sounded halfhearted. "John what...what are you playing at?"

"Of course I love Mary. It is just-" John covered his face and exhaled harshly. "As confusing as this has been for you, it has been for me to. I really cared about you, then you died, and I had to move on. I fell in love with someone else but I never stopped caring about you. I never forgot about you. When you came back again, it really messed me up." John tried his best to explain. Last thing he wanted was to hurt Sherlock, but I didn't want to lie to him either.

Sherlock felt his heart rate increase he sat himself up with some difficulty his eyes still watering from what he thought was rejection. "What do you mean, what are you saying? Did you love me, do you still?"

"Yeah, I love you. Should I be telling you this though? No, I am making it worse. I should just shut my damn mouth." John said, irritated at himself for being so selfish. He slammed his hand hard against his face. "Damn my selfishness! I should not be telling you this." He covered his face completely.

Sherlock, distressed, watched John hawk like. "No keep telling me it." He begged, the addict in him emerging. He knew it was bad for him.

"Sherlock please no. For god's sake. I do not want to hurt you." John felt hallow.

"I do an excellent job of it myself you wouldn't be doing anything but mildly contributing." Sherlock rushed. "I love you." he set firmly trying out a new power

"Look, I love you too..." John whispered into his hands, still not ready to face Sherlock.

"Is there a but?" Sherlock whispered back not daring to speak loudly.

"Mary." One word he knew would say it all. "Damn it all, just dammit all."

"You can kiss me if you want." Sherlock's mouth was hoarse. He hated himself in that moment. "You should...you shouldn't have said anything."

"You think I don't know that? I am so sorry I said anything I really am. I should not have done that to you. God Sherlock, I would love to kiss you. Damn me." He kept his hands pressed tight to his face. His head hurt, his body burned, and he felt so weird and hallow. His world was spiraling, and he was sinking.

"Shh," Sherlock hushed, shocked at the comfort in his voice, he walked over to John carefully tugging his hands away like he had done so many times when he woke up screaming in the other room from memories or war. "It's okay if you need to go." _It wasn't_ "I'll be fine." _You won't be_ "You just need to stop...this, the sinking."

John looked up into Sherlock's eyes. "No, I am fine." He took a deep breath and cleared his mind. "I think we still have things to talk about. Plus, you are even worse of now then you were when I got here thanks to me 'helping'"

Sherlock felt as though he was walking a tightrope unsure if he would fall or just collapse before he got to the end. "Okay," he managed out. "What...what do we have to say?"

"I don't even know, I just don't feel right leaving." John admitted.

"Always the morals of the outfit." Sherlock sighed, nudging him gently. "What are we going to do?"

"I really don't know. I mean, it was okay before, but now... I just don't know." John took a deep breath. "Just say something. Start talking. Fix this."

"Oh I can fix this?" Sherlock scoffed. "For god sake you don't want me to fix it, you want me to tell you to go back home kiss your wife and talk to her about baby names."

"No, I don't, and that is what scares me, Sherlock." John covered his face again. "I am evil or something."

"You stupid stupid wonderful man you're not evil," Sherlock sighed, shifting his hands away. "Kiss me."

John's eyes widened, and before he could stop himself he leaned his head in to bring Sherlock's lips to his. The warmth of his mouth caused a violent tingle coursing down John's entire body. He could feel the wetness of tears on Sherlock's face as he brought his hand to his cheek.

Sherlock was unsure how to feel, he was over-whelmed with joy and victory but a darkness held that kiss. It wasn't done without hurting others. The second John's hand touched his cheek and Sherlock's tongue scraped the bottom of John's lip, the detective knew that he was in trouble but he couldn't bring himself to care. Breaking apart Sherlock lent his forehead against John's.

"You made me a very happy man just then." He managed out in a shaking tone. "If you...if you nee-want to go to Mary it's okay."

John felt heavy. He knew it was wrong. He wasn't a bad person, but this was someone he had cared about for so long. "That was... really nice..." John finally stuttered out. He could find no more words to use. His mind was too busy swimming.

"You know it has to be your choice John." Sherlock gritted his thumb running over John's wrist.

"Can't think right now. I just can't." John closed his eyes and leaned back.

"Can I stay like this...close to you." Sherlock pressed tentatively.

"Yes. Yes." John whispered as he tried to get a hold of his thoughts.

Sherlock felt himself lift. Even if he left, for a few moments John was his. He nestled in next to the doctor, tapping out John's heart beat idly with his index finger on the man's thigh.

John felt so confused. He never imaged that he would find himself in this situation. His mind buzzed and felt extremely heavy, but he also felt so at peace with the detective nestled next to him. It felt right and wrong. It was like a dream.

"Sherlock?" John finally forced himself to speak, though he still did not know what to say.

That's when it came like the knock of a prison guard taking an inmate to death row, Sherlock lifted himself up resigned.

"I apologize I just wanted a small...moment to hang onto after you, in case you..." He trailed. "I played out all the things you're going to say, kiss me again or go out the door...Either way you don't leave her."

Even knowing it was wrong, John grabbed Sherlock in his arms, and pulled him close so that their lips were almost touching.

"I am sorry." John whispered as he pulled Sherlock closer. His lips were so soft, and the feeling was something that could not be described, but John had to have it again.

Sherlock paused inches above John, could he do this, could he cope with stealing moments like photographs and sending John back home to a wife? A wife who had been kind and understanding to Sherlock?

"It's all fine," he whispered back, of course he could, it's John. He always forgave John. In a thousand lifetimes it would always be John. He closed the distance between their lips savoring it.

John could feel that he might start crying, but he forced the tears away. He pulled Sherlock as close to him as he could. He needed this. He brought Sherlock's lower lip into his mouth, and suckled it, giving gentle nibbles.

Sherlock arched his back lightly letting his fingers run through John's hair, it was good in that moment. Sherlock could pretend this was three years ago when John wouldn't have to think of an excuse as to why he was here.

John held Sherlock's face with one hand, and his back with the other. The kiss seemed to last a life time as he gently ran his tongue across Sherlock's lip, then his teeth, then his tongue. He could not bear to pull away from the detective though every part of him was screaming it was wrong.

The need to breath could only be ignored for so long, as Sherlock broke apart he looked at John frightfully.

John's mind had shut off. His was in bliss, but also in a prison. "I..." He did not know what to say.

"I know" Sherlock finished for him. "We can pick this up another time but...you don't want to stay any longer." Never in his life has Sherlock wanted to punch himself in the face more than in that moment. John felt crushed, and as much as it killed him. Hurt him like nothing else, he knew he had to leave. "Yeah.." He agreed somberly.

Sherlock looked as though he'd been stabbed, felt it too, though in fairness he stabbed himself.

"Next time." He reminded John through a shaking smile as he headed for the door.

John looked back at Sherlock. He had come to help his friend, but he had made everything worse. As he walked down the stair case he felt like the worst human being alive.

Sherlock took a few moments, making sure John got into the cab, before curling up in John's chair by himself, rocking a little. He fished for his second phone, remembering the agreement of distracting cases, and messaged both Lestrade and Mycroft. One of them must have something.

You need to give me a case -SH


	3. A Distraction

Lestrade looked down at his phone and saw Sherlock. "How does he always know..." He whispered to himself as he walked outside to type a reply.

Good timing. Triple on Whittaker. Interested? -GL

Is it bloody?-SH

Sherlock winced he shouldn't have said that, it's never mattered before

Yeah... Are you okay? I sent John to check on you earlier. -GL

He came.-SH

He won't be on this case.-SH

Right, very well. Come on down if you are interested, we won't touch a thing. -GL

Good. On my way.-SH

Who else knows about what you saw earlier.-SH

Me, and John. That's all. I thought I could tell him since you guys are close, and you looked like you needed help. -GL

He helped.-SH  
And then he un-did it all.-SH

That doesn't sound good Sherlock. -GL

I'm fine.-SH

I need a distraction.-SH

I don't even want to know what happened. Just come down here. See you soon. -GL

[delayed] Greg.-SH

Yes? Are you on the way? - GL

In a cab, irrelevant I have a question.-SH

When you saw us together, all that time, did you...was it obvious I...-SH

I honestly have no clue as to what you are talking about. -GL

I love him.-SH

Oh, well, oh. No, it was not obvious. Did you guys talk about it? -GL

Eventually. Once he fished out what was bothering me it...came up.-SH

How did that conversation go, or should I even be asking? -GL

He kissed me.-SH

Oh -GL

Why did you tell me this? -GL

I don't know.-SH

Better than sitting in his chair shaking.-SH

Did he even think about, well, his wife? -GL

Multiple times.-SH

And he still kissed you -GL

Don't ruin it with morality, she gets him whenever she wants I get to remember today-SH

That is one unusual way to look at it -GL

He said he loved me.-SH

You're mad at him, you're disappointed in me, because of your ex-wife.-SH

How can you read me over a text? -GL

You're my friend, we've known each other for some time.-SH

Not that difficult, keep up.-SH

Right, just weird. -GL

Sorry.-SH

You are apologizing? Now I know something is wrong. -GL

You're right there.-SH

Someone is trying to get my attention. Message me when you get here, okay? –GL

Sherlock pulled up to the crime scene in the cab sending a quick text to Greg and strolling in with a bravado of fake confidence. He looked at the bashed in skulls with sick delight, it was good to know somebody else loathed another's happiness so much they had to splatter it on the carpet. Glancing over the corpses with indifference it took him a half hour and several brisk conversations with Lestrade before he came to a conclusion.

"Son's older and possessive boyfriend." He replied with a sharp look. "Your green paint theory was correct." He added almost as an apology for Greg's disappointment in him.

"Well that sums that up." Lestrade said clapping his hands, and directing his men to wrap up the scene. "I will send someone to pick him up now." Lestrade said with a smile. "Good job."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I don't need to be sent home with a gold star Lestrade." He hissed shoving his hands in his pockets with anger. "I'm fine, and you're disappointed you don't have to pretend otherwise, I'm not stopping though."

"I can't stop you, or tell you what is right." Lestrade stared hard. "Just try not to do anything to stupid." He turned around and gave orders to his officers before getting into a car. "Good luck with it all." He said before closing the car door and driving off back to Scotland Yard to do some paperwork. Sherlock huffed, damn that man, he thought bitterly hailing a cab.

Sherlock, causing trouble again? –MH

Something like that.-SH  
Tried to call Victor you can figure out why, John came over I'm sure you don't need any more clues than that.-SH

Sherlock, he's married. You have been creating trouble. –MH

It wasn't one sided.-SH

Sounds like a dream come true for you. What to you plan to do about this? –MH

Don't be snide.-SH  
I didn't expect it to hurt. Him kissing me then leaving.-SH

Why did he leave? You pushed him away didn't you? –MH

He had to go to Mary.-SH  
If I have distractions I won't...need anybody to help me sleep.-SH

Have you talked to him since you kicked him out? -MH

I didn't kick him out he left!-SH  
And no.-SH

You told him to leave, Sherlock. That is essentially kicking him out. Maybe you should clear your mind, and talk to him. Before both of you get messed up beyond repair. –MH

I wouldn't have to have this conversation if I could have just seen Victor.-SH

Life is more complicated than that. Victor is gone, so now you have to stop and solve the new problem you have created. -MH

I'm aware he's gone thank-you, I already feel guilty.-SH

Stop pitying yourself Sherlock. It is unbecoming. -MH

I'll do what I like.-SH  
You think I should stop this, before it gets out of hand?-SH

Whatever you think is best. I would personally have fun for a while. Isn't this what you have wanted anyhow? -MH

I didn't want to share him.-SH  
Or use him, it's not like the others.-SH

Well, that is something you are going to have to figure out on your own. I do wish you luck though. The awful situations you always seem to find yourself in do provide good entertainment, so thank you for that. -MH

You truly excel at being cold.-SH

[To John] How's Mary.-SH

[delayed] She is fine. How are you? –JW

Got a case from Lestrade, closed it.-SH  
It was good...violent, it was nice and violent.-SH

Sounds...nice. About what happened. I can't stop thinking about it, Sherlock. –JW

It wasn't. It was gruesome, their skulls were smashed it, satisfying to see.-SH  
I don't want you to stop.-SH

I was being sarcastic, it didn't sound nice at all. Quite gruesome really. -JW

I need to see you. -JW

Fine.-SH  
Baker street.-SH  
After I see you I'll need to see some more peoples skulls bashed in I doubt you can provide that.-SH

I am sure Molly has some nice bodies at the morgue for you to look at. -JW

I will be round in an hour or so. -JW

The bodies better be unscathed, I want to bruise them.-SH  
Fine, do what you like I'll just be waiting-SH


	4. The First Night Together

John took a deep shuddering breath as he approached the door of 221B. A million things he wanted to say, yet none of them seem right. He loved Sherlock, and he wanted to be with him. Of course, that was a bad idea, as he was married with a family on the way. For the longest time he had been able to suppress the feelings he had, but after their kiss, Sherlock was the only thing he could think about. He opened the door and walked up the staircase. _Sherlock, I love you._John thought. _Sherlock I need you. I am so sorry. Tell me what to do..._He got to the door. He remembered how broken Sherlock had been the last time he had opened it. It hurt his soul to the core. What was he going to do now? He was going to make things worse, and he knew it. He shouldn't be here. He had to see Sherlock. Selfish. He knocked, and then opened the door.

Sherlock fretted sitting in John's chair. He wrapped his arms around himself rocking slightly. _It was just nerves just nerves and guilt_. He counted John's steps up the stairs, the faltering just before he reached the door to the lounge, the debating whether or not he should open it. _He has a family, will have a family. What about Mary? What about me. I wanted this longer! But he won't leave her, he wants you but he won't go you know that_. Sherlock slumped, it was true John wouldn't leave Sherlock, wouldn't stop this, they'd just carrying on like it wasn't destroying three people's lives. "Why are you here?" He bit out.

John took a deep breath. Sherlock was sitting is his chair, and that struck him like a thunderbolt. _He was thinking about me..._"Sherlock, we need to get this sorted."

"Fine let's get this sorted," His voice tore a little, refusing to look at John. "How." He demanded softly, "How do we sort this out?"

"You are the one with all the answers." John choked out. "Here, I will just say everything, then pretend that it is not me talking, and give me advice. Can we do that?" John asked. He wanted to look at Sherlock, but he kept his gaze hard on the ground.

Sherlock bit his lip. "Yes fine, here...consult me." The words poured off his tongue reluctantly. _As if I could ever be objective without smashing myself in two when it came to John._

John cleared his mind so he could talk freely.

"When I met you, you were the most amazing person. Your talents for deducing things that seemed impossible was mind boggling. You just swept me up like a hurricane into your world of crazy, and I loved it. I was lost. A broken man. You helped me in ways I can never even explain to you. You gave me a new meaning, a purpose in the madness. I cared so deeply about you, but I never said a word. When you died, it very nearly killed me. You were such a huge part of my life, then you were just gone. It took me a while to move on, but when I did, I never fully moved on. I met Mary and she helped me come to terms with life without you. When I saw you again after 2 years I was furious. Not only because you let me think you were dead, but because I was just about ready to move on from you, then you come back with all of your brilliance, and you save my life again. I will not go through life without you by my side, but we have to find a way to be with each other and not be brought to misery because of a desire that cannot be taken care of. I love you Sherlock. I need you. I cannot let you get hurt though." John was lightly crying at this point.

Sherlock took a shuddered breath, he was silent for what seemed like hours, John's words ripping him to shreds. "You want my consultation?" He drawled, "You don't want to be without me but you don't want to be miserable with me so you won't leave her. You just want your feelings to go away." He felt his voice crack. "I don't mind if I get hurt for you though. I can keep a secret; you'd have Mary and your proper life and me whenever you wanted."

"I wouldn't be miserable with you. Best years of my life are the ones we spent together, living here and solving cases. I just want you to know that." John hurt, but he knew he had to ask. He mustered up the strength, and looked Sherlock in the eyes. "Would it... would it just be easier for you if I stayed away? I am not saying I want to, not at all, but would that be best? I mean, if you have to stare at gruesome death after every time I am near you..." His voice trailed off as sorrow filled him.

"It'd be easier in the long run," Sherlock whimpered "but you don't want that. We could...do this for as long as it takes for you to get me out of your system, still solve crimes after that if you'd like I just wouldn't kiss you once you're done with me."

John laughed pathetically. "How could I ever be done with you, you stupid, brilliant man. Here you are, willing to make yourself miserable just to help me." John couldn't stop the tear that fell from his eye. "And you thought you didn't deserve me... It is I who so does not deserve you."

"When the baby comes you'll stop." Sherlock replied in a low voice, he hated that he was the one bringing the truth and reality to the conversation. It was his job though to be the logic to John's emotions, just as John was the morals to his passion. "And you'll realize you can't anymore, because you'll love this tiny infant more than anything else and you couldn't do that to your child. And maybe after a particularly bad fight you and Mary have or a bad day at surgery or when your leg pain flairs up you'll come over for more than just a case or a chat and you'll get your anger out and maybe stay the night in my bed if you're feeling guilty."

John knew that everything Sherlock was saying was dead on. He wiped away his tears, walked quickly over to Sherlock, and pulled him in. He sat down in the chair next to him, and just held on for dear life. "You are a good man, Sherlock Holmes." John whispered into Sherlock's neck. "Please though, don't get hung up on me. But if you need anything, call. I mean it."

"Too late," Sherlock replied with a half laugh "you're an easy man to get hung up on John Watson." He brought shaking fingers to clutch at John's back for a hug, _don't_, dipped his head a little into the crook of John's shoulder, _stop it_, and pressed a small gentle kiss on there. "I'll call." He promised "I'd be lost without my blogger."

"This... this is okay." John said trying to convince himself more than Sherlock. "You need someone so you don't feel lonely, I need you. You need me. At least for a little while. This is good for the both of us..." John closed his mind. He just could not think about what was happening, so he didn't. He just nuzzled into Sherlock, feeling his closeness. _You are a bastard, John. _

Sherlock swallowed down his words and choked whimpers like they were glass. It would hurt more coming out than going back down though. He shook a little, clinging to what he had. _This, this is what you get. You get to hold him that should be enough, it's more than you deserve_. "Next time you're angry or you've had a fight and you come here, because you will come here." It was a resigned voice as though he didn't want to be right. "It's fine. I know what...that...that you'll be there to get some anger out I won't say a word about it I won't cling to anything no matter if it's the smallest thing that happens." _You are just a self-destructive idiot Sherlock Holmes. Always the addict and your drug is just making sure he's okay._

"I love you, I do... please don't think I am just using you... I'm not... well maybe I am... but only because I care... God, does that even make sense?" As John spoke his voice became an even deeper tone, flowing with pain and confusion. _I should never have come when Sherlock had asked me to... NO... I should I have. He needed me. He was broken because he had used someone, then that person had died. You say you care. You are just using him for your own selfishness. I never should have told him the truth. I should have said I never cared, or at least that I no longer did. You made it worse... so much worse..._John just pulled himself closer to the detective. The best friend he had ever had, that he was now hurting for his own gain. _STUPID_ .

"No." Sherlock admitted almost moodily "but I don't really care." Sherlock inhaled John's scent deeply. It was always so clean and fresh, like soap, cotton, musk and a bit of lime. _Means he still uses that green shower gel. Shut up Sherlock._He hummed a little happily when John pulled him closer before shutting his eyes, it became apparent he was pretending this was under different circumstances, that the confessions would lead to some happiness rather than a fleeting one sided occasional affair.

_You are breaking him..._John moved his hand to the back of Sherlock's head. _Stop this..._ He moved him so their eyes met. He pressed his lips to Sherlock's for the smallest of seconds before pulling away and holding his gaze. "Will you be okay?" _Of course he won't..._

"Of course I will." Sherlock responded quickly, almost reading the thoughts in John's head. _Liar of course you won't be._"Come on I'm 'nobody else can compete with my massive intellect'" He quoted John weakly. "Of course I'm fine I'm always fine." _Liar, you'd be willing to rip yourself apart to just pretend for fleeting moments he was all yours, pathetic. You'd be okay with him ending it when it suits him as long as you have the memories to cling to, even more pathetic. _

John sighed. _You know he is lying right?_"Good I guess..." John sat up, and cleared away the bad thoughts. "Come on, let's go do something... clear our minds. Maybe get a drink?" John half laughed lightly. "I mean, it went so well the first time, right?"

Sherlock nodded forcing his own laughter as he grabbed his coat and scarf, walking down the stairs. They opened the door and without thinking he went to slip his fingers into John's before taking them back. "Sorry wasn't thinking, if we're in public we can't of course we can't."

"Its-its okay." John said with a half-smile. He grabbed Sherlock's hand and gave a comforting squeeze before letting go. "Later." He said as he wrapped his coat around himself tightly and looked at Sherlock. "Where to?"

Sherlock felt himself visibly lift up at John's hand squeeze. "Pub" He offered reasonably, well John had suggested a drink. "A quiet one...too many people will be hellish. All that information." He pulled a face, letting John lead him around the corner.

"Perfect." John said. He let nothing enter his mind but getting to the pub. Soon they arrived at a small place. Only a few people sat scattered at tables. "This okay?" John asked, walking inside and taking off his coat.

Sherlock flicked over the few people. "Fine" He replied letting the information sweep over him and taking John to the back corner. Removing his coat, it dawned on him he should order a drink. _You need to seem calm, comfortable or he won't do this_. "Scotch small amount of ice, please." He pressed the bartender in a plain voice, fiddling with his glass as they sat back down. "Stop looking at me with pity."

"I am not looking at you with pity." John said with exasperation. "I will just have a beer." John said turning to the bartender, then back to Sherlock. "I will never pity you."

"Good to know." He replied over the top of his drink, taking a large gulp as the liquid poured itself down his throat. Sherlock traced the table idly, ordinary conversation was painful when he knew he was able to lean against John and speak, but unable to in public. "So is this a date then?" He asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, a date." John laughed. "You remember that one time during the study in pink case? Took me out to dinner." John took a long drink. "Now was that a date?" John tried to appear to be in high spirits, but the corruption of the situation sat heavily on his chest.

Sherlock bit his lip. "No that was a case." He replied in a cool voice faking indifference.

"Yeah, I was joking. Just trying to find something to talk about." John moved his glass to watch the liquid swirl around. "We have had some good times, huh?" John asked. He looked up at Sherlock, trying to read something from his eyes. "Too many more." He lifted his glass to his lips, in-taking a small sip that he held in his mouth for a second before swallowing.

Sherlock felt his lip quirk up as he clinked a glass with John's. "I'll drink to that" he paused, the alcohol lingering on his lips and the urge to shift closer to John rising. "Do you hold Mary's hand across the table when you're on dates?" He asked bluntly.

"Sometimes, not usually." John said. He was trying to concentrate on Sherlock, get a reading from his tone, inflections, face. Not as easy as Sherlock made it look. "Any other questions? Honest answers." John said looking around the pub. More people had cleared out.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he noticed John attempting to deduce him. "What is it like when you kiss her."

"Normal I guess..." John leaned in a little. "Nothing like kissing you." He whispered, and then pulled away. "None of the same spark."

Sherlock's face darkened. _Yes but he's not leaving her, is he?_ "She's good in bed?" He spat a little.

John's face flushed. "Average." He choked out. He quickly finished his drink and ordered another. All sorts of images of him and Sherlock in bed clouded his thoughts. He shook his head trying to clear away the obscene imagery.

"I'd say I'm sorry to hear it, but I don't care." Sherlock drawled slowly, his machine like mask built up around him. Downing his drink, he gestured for another. "Such a shame it's remotely not my problem."

"I did not think you would care in all honesty." John said looking away from the detective. "You are sounding a bit like your old self again though, and that is nice to see." John smiled on his glass, taking a larger gulp then he had fist anticipated. "Feeling better perhaps?" He asked, almost afraid for an answer.

"I don't feel things." He sneered, his shaking hands betraying him. "And even if I did I can promise you, I'm perfectly okay..." Sherlock paused and his voice softened. "Spending time with you again it's...nice."

"Yeah it is." John agreed. "Life with Mary.. It's a bit boring. I miss the excitement, the danger." John took another drink. His vision was swimming slightly. "You. I have really missed you, but you know that." John said with a laugh. All his worry seemed to melt away into his glass.

"We'll have cases to quell the adrenalin in you." He reminded him, lazily swirling the scotch in his mouth. Sherlock rarely drank, though when he did, he preferred the slight burn of the spirits. "I am well aware you missed me...baker street? After this." He gestured to the pub, hope hanging in his voice, _You're hopeful for something destructive that will leave you empty. My god, Mycroft was right, this is entertaining._

"Said I was going to be gone all night when I left." John said finishing his drink. "No matter how this-" He gestured to himself and Sherlock "panned out, I needed a break away from it all. The boring emptiness... So yeah. Baker Street." John smiled, then looked down. "My nightmares have started again." He confessed. "Since being with Mary. I am not sure why it is."

Sherlock paused for a moment. "Well then, we can avoid nightmares together." He offered giving him a small look, scanning John's face for the fraction of anything being wrong. "You should have told me, I could have helped."

"I guess I just tried to forget about it. Plus I did not want to bother you with silly things like nightmares." John looked up. "I guess I should have, I know you can help. You always fix things, and make lives better." John smiled "Especially mine."

"Stop complimenting me," Sherlock muttered keeping his gaze on the drink "you don't mean it."

"Yes I do!" John exclaimed. He placed his hand and Sherlock's shoulder, and held his gaze. "You. Are. Brilliant."

He felt the warmth from John's hand settle and calm him. "Only to you it appears."

"Well, is that not what matters anyhow?" John asked. "Plus, anyone who cannot see how amazingly brilliant you are is completely daft!" John smiled.

"I'll let them know." Sherlock hummed, gesturing over for a third scotch. He had to dull his thoughts if he was going to do this. Be on a date without being on a date; be around him with him knowing, without a case to raise his distraction.

Another drink had already been brought to John who drank it thirstily. Nothing was going on in his mind but being with Sherlock. All other things floated away like lost dreams. "You do that." John said, finally removing the glass from his lips. "Hey Sherlock." John asked suddenly. "How long did, you know-" he leaned in close. "How long have you loved me for?"

"I realized it was love about 6 months into first meeting you." Sherlock's answer was instant and detached. "Suppose I'm a romantic." He drawled sarcastically.

"How sweet." John said with a goofy smile. The beer was starting to take control of him. Without thinking about it he placed his hand on Sherlock's. "You are such a sweetie sweet man."

"You're only doing that because you're drunk." Sherlock mumbled, defeated but still tightening his grip on John's hand, pretending they were in private for a moment. "I'm not sweet, I'm weak."

"You are far from weak. Even when you are struggling, you are still the strongest person that I know. Please, just for a little bit, just for tonight. Stop hating on yourself." John said. He looked deeply in to Sherlock's eyes, and kept his hand tight. "And I am not drunk." He added with a slight smile. "Say something about how amazing you are." John said, reaching his other hand up to pet the side of Sherlock's face.

Sherlock felt his features soften. "I have enough sense to love you." He shrugged. "There."

"There is no good sense in loving me, and you know that. Is it really so hard for you to be nice, even if it is to yourself?" John asked sympathetically.

Sherlock scowled. "Why? I'm not a nice person, why should I be nice to myself?" He sighed. "Fine, you want nice? I'm...loyal." He said the word with some distaste. "To those I see loyalty fit for."

"Thank you, I mean, was that really so hard?" John asked. The world was growing and shrinking around him. Things were spinning, and contorting to less than recognizable shapes. One thing stayed perfectly still, held in place while the world span. Sherlock. _How fitting_. "I wish you could see you how I see you. You wouldn't even believe it."

"Probably because it would all be untrue." Sherlock shot back, unable to take his eyes of John's lips. "Your hand is still...I only mention because we're in public and you might care."

"Oh, funny thing actually. I don't care at all." John gave Sherlock a huge smile. "Look around, no one is even here." They were alone, except for the bartender who was cleaning glasses. "Unless you have a problem with it?" John asked, raising his eyebrows.

"No," Sherlock blinked, slightly shocked "No not at all...if I could..." He trailed, leaning in to pull John into a kiss.

The world was spinning until it was still. In all of existence there were two. John melted into Sherlock like butter on toast. The rush of adrenaline, the excitement, it all had John's head spinning. He could taste the scotch on Sherlock's lips, his breath, his mouth. It was delicious. He grabbed Sherlock's free hand with his own and held both in a firm grip.

Sherlock let a small moan into John's mouth gripping John tightly letting himself be delirious in the kiss.

John let go of Sherlock's hand, and pulled his head closer. The small moan that had escaped Sherlock had made John dizzy with longing. He sorrowfully broke this kiss, but only so long as it took him to get to Sherlock. He looked around. The bartender was in the back, and the place was still empty. He sat down, straddling Sherlock. He grabbed a handful of his hair and once again pulled their eager lips into a sweet embrace.

Groaning feeling John yank at his curls he let the slightly metallic tasting kiss fill his mouth, pretending it tasted like sugar, ignoring the bitter after taste. His body arched up thrusting a little into John, arousal pooling in him.

John reluctantly broke the kiss, but stayed inches away from Sherlock's mouth. "Maybe we should head back to Baker Street." John slightly panted as he grinded against Sherlock's lap, desperate to drag another moan out of the detective. As soon as his sentence was finished, he took Sherlock's mouth again.

Letting out small whines of pleasure, he nodded ,letting himself be yanked out of the bar. Scotch and John Watson pumping through his veins, he barely made it inside the door before he pulled John into a kiss. "Leave your wedding ring on." he grunted, kissing his neck as he notices John go to slip it off.

John can't even think to respond, so he just wraps his arms around Sherlock instead. The two, completely distracted with each other, bump into a chair and fall into it. John laughs, full of amusement and bliss. "God I love you." He whispered into Sherlock's mouth.

"I love you too." Sherlock muttered taking a small gasp for air before slipping his tongue under John's lips. Letting John's hips rock into his, his mouth was aching for more and his fingers fumbled undoing John's buttons.

John moaned deep into Sherlock as he hastily removed Sherlock's coat. He tried to unbutton each little button but frustration gripped him, and he ended up ripping Sherlock's shirt off. He ran a hand down Sherlock's chest. "Sorry." he muttered, only half caring about what he had done.

"Don't say sorry." Sherlock growled, kissing John roughly as he started undoing the doctor's belt.

John moved away from Sherlock's mouth and kissed down his neck. With each kiss he went lower. Neck to chest. He stopped at his waistline, and then went up where he kissed his ear, down his jaw, then back to his mouth. He moved his hands quickly undoing Sherlock's belt and pants' button. He moaned as he moved against the detective, fantasy becoming a sweet reality.

Sherlock's hips bucked with a small neediness as he flipped John over, kissing his hip bone, dipping his mouth dangerously low. "I want you in me." He uttered lowly into John's ear.

"Oh God." John stuttered out. The amount of arousal he was feeling held him blind with need. He moved Sherlock's lips to his and held them with melting passion. He moved away, and the pain of doing so made him wince "Bed." He stated flatly, voice full of need.

Sherlock didn't need to be told twice, he didn't need to be told once. He panted hungrily, eyeing the door of his room, practically kicking it in and letting himself be pushed onto the mattress and stripped.

John looked down on him. "God, you are perfection." He mumbled as he opened the drawer of the bedside table. To his surprise, and good fortune, he had found a bottle of lube. He jumped on top of Sherlock, kissing him passionately as he put some of the lube on his hand, and began preparing them both for the next step.

_Is that what he says to Mary? Shut up Sherlock._ He whimpered feeling John prep and stretch him, biting his own wrist to silence his groans.

"You are okay right?" John asked hurriedly. He was not sure how much Sherlock had done, and he did not want to hurt him. Even as eager as he was, Sherlock needed to be okay.

"Don't ask me that ever again." Sherlock spat with hostility, pulling John into a bruising kiss. "I don't care if you care." _Lie. Just tell him, tell him what he wants to know. It's not like anything you've kept private is private anymore._

John was a bit stunned and very confused over Sherlock's hostility. "Fine." He nearly snarled. He was tired of Sherlock mistreating himself and lying, but he would deal with that problem in a more appropriate time and place. He pressed Sherlock's shoulder's down hard into the mattress so he could not move. He positioned himself over Sherlock, and slowly slid into his eager body, getting in his full length before pulling back again.

Sherlock gasped as he felt John's length fill him and his width stretch him, he let out an almost sinful moan, clutching the side of the bed sheets, whimpering in a deep mix of pleasure with small amounts of pain.

John dug his face into the curve of Sherlock's neck as he set a steady rhythm. With each thrust, sparks of pleasure intensified. He panted and moaned into Sherlock's neck as he planted small kisses. He moved his mouth to Sherlock's, inhaling the sounds of his pleasure as if it was the only thing keeping him alive. He pushed harder and faster into Sherlock. He loved the way he moaned and shook beneath him. He took Sherlock's length in his hand, and stroked it in time with is thrusts. He needed to watch Sherlock lose his cool. Become almost human under his power.

Sherlock rutted against John, their bodies causing friction. He clutched at John's back, arching his neck, allowing small bites to be had there. He wanted John to leave a bruise, some reminder some evidence. He liked this feeling, this was almost a drug for him in itself. "John, oh god John please."

John bit down hard on curve of Sherlock's neck just has he pushed into him. He knew the pleasure mixed with the sudden pain would either be amazing, or useless. Either way, he took his chance. He let go with his teeth and gently licked at the wound. Everything was a blur of sweat, saliva, and desire. He felt himself nearly go blind with the pleasure he was holding back. "God Sherlock." John moaned. "I am on the edge."

Sherlock nearly choked on his own moans as John bit down. He held onto John, pushing him further inside, heaved breaths barely making his words audible. "I...I'm too, god please just...oh" incoherent sentences were what he'd been reduced to as he felt himself edge closer. "Fuck" uttered out of his mouth, the curse odd coming from him as he grunted into orgasm.

The sight of Sherlock thrown into pleasure was enough to send John flying over the brink. Waves of intense pleasure smashed into him, turning his mind blank and his vision white as his powerful orgasm overtook his whole being. He collapsed next to Sherlock, breath coming in short, harsh wisps. "Fuck." John uttered between strained breaths. He put his arm over Sherlock, and laid his head down on his chest, nuzzling into him.

Sherlock stared ahead at the ceiling as his breathing slowed down. He felt the bruise begin to throb once his pleasure began to pass. He rubbed it a little, leaning himself closer to John. "What time will you be gone in the morning." He mumbled dully, wanting to avoid John's 'but how was that for you? Have you before? You can talk to me' annoying questions, doubting he'd manage it.

"Hadn't really thought about it." John snuggled in closer to Sherlock. He could feel his heart beat slowing down. "Any particular time you wanted me gone?" John asked as his kissed Sherlock's cheek.

"Whatever time Mary won't get suspicious of." Sherlock held John's hand tightly, tracing his wedding band.

"Right, I had actually forgotten about that. God, I am terrible." John whispered against Sherlock.

"You aren't." Sherlock promised back in a small voice cuddling into him, he loathed to admit it but he liked being held after sex. "Put your arm around me." He requested softly.

John wrapped both his arms around Sherlock and held him close, planting soft kisses to his neck and face. "I just got so caught up in, well, in you. Everything else just slipped my mind."

"I noticed...felt it." He replied dryly, rubbing his bruised neck almost proudly. Maybe he wouldn't wear a scarf to cover it. "I like it, it's like I'm yours."

"I like you being mine." John admitted. "Feels right being here with you even though I know I will have to leave at some point." John sat up in a way to look into Sherlock's eyes. "I don't want to have to leave."

"You keep on saying you don't want to, but we both know you will." Sherlock shrugged. "You love two people and one of them you're having a baby with. You're not a bad man John, just in a difficult situation. A resolvable one."

"I don't really see how this can be solved in anyway where either of us is happy, but then again, you see things I don't, so I don't know." John closed his eyes, and rested his head on Sherlock again, trying to fully enjoy every fleeting moment.

"We already discussed how this plays out John. You get this out of your system once you have a child and then you come back when you need a break or a release." Sherlock stroked John's hair lightly. "That's how these things work."

"Well, I don't like it." John complained. He leaned into Sherlock's hand, loving the feeling of him stroking his hair. A small sigh escaped from his lips.

"Well that's just too bad because we both know that's what you're going to do. Embrace the truth, it's liberating." Sherlock choked a little snuggling in tighter. "You're surprised I want to be held after." He pointed out.

"Surprised, but pleased." John said. "You didn't seem like the kind, but hey." He moved his face up to Sherlock's ear. "Just because it is the truth and the reality, does not mean that I have to like it." He kissed Sherlock softly, before lying back down. "Well then we can both share the sentiment." Sherlock replied in a heavy voice.

"Did I bite too hard?" John asked after noticing how Sherlock kept touching the bruise.

"Yes." Came the hoarse voice answer. "But it's good, bite too hard more often."

"Yeah, I can do that." John chuckled. "God, this is really nice. Just lying here with you. Thought you should know."

"Thank you." Sherlock traced small circles on John's arms, keeping his answers short. "I like it, the feeling of your skin against mine… its safe."

"So nice, safe, warm." John could feel himself fading in and out of reality. "I have not felt this safe in a long time." John said. All bad memories had been pushed so far away from his mind, he finally felt light.

"Don't say that." Turning his gaze towards the sheets, he placed his head on John's shoulders leaving small kisses. "Just don't. Just sleep, you haven't been sleeping."

"Don't.. don't tell me what to say.." John yawned. "Or what to do..." He grabbed on to Sherlock a little tighter. "So bossy."

"You say it like you'd actually do something about it." Sherlock challenged.

"Don't push me, I might." John smiled. "I was a soldier, remember? I can take a man down." He cuddled Sherlock, looking no more threatening than a puppy.

"Like to see you try," Sherlock mocked, "I'm so afraid Captain Watson." He scoffed.

John used the last of his energy to jump up, and pin Sherlock down with no way out. "Maybe you should be." John said with a wolfish smile, leaning so close that he could feel Sherlock's breath on his lips.

Sherlock licked his lips a little, the low slightly edgy voice of John causing them both to creep grins on their faces. "Why don't you prove I should be?"

John pulled Sherlock up and pinned him against the wall. He dove to his mouth, tongue searching every inch. He moved his crotch over Sherlock's grinding into him with perfectly applied pressure. He moved his mouth away, and placed it over the fresh bruise. He licked and kissed the mark, applying just enough pressure for it to feel good. He pulled away from Sherlock in an instant and laid back down. "Did I prove my point?"

Sherlock took a moment to regain his breath. He blinked a little dizzy, the bruise throbbing. "That felt good." he muttered kissing John softly before leaning into him. "Point proven...Captain." He smirked.

"Good.. Very good." John said with a smile. He ran his hand through Sherlock's hair, and hummed happily.

"Whenever you want this, me its fine. I'm more than happy." Sherlock mumbled into John's skin.

"What if-" John droned on. "I want you all the time. See? That isn't fine, and you would not be happy." John smiled teasingly.

"I'm above being happy. I wanted this, you for so long I'll take what I can get."

"That makes me sad. I can't really be worth all the trouble and all the pain." John pulled Sherlock closer to him.

"You really could be." Sherlock argued almost happily as he drifted to sleep. John watched Sherlock for a few moments, seeing him peaceful and content lifted his spirits. John yawned, grabbed Sherlock tighter, then drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Sherlock woke in the early hours, not expect John to be up before him staring. "You feel guilty because of Mary. You're twirling your wedding ring."

"Stop analyzing me..." John whispered. "It gets weird."

"I'm not weird." Sherlock grumbled, curling in on himself. "I can't help seeing everything, I just thought you didn't mind if I voiced it."

"Sorry, I normally don't mind. I just don't like hearing things that remind me of the currant truth, if that makes sense." John said, turning away from his hand that bore a broken promise. He fell back on the bed, and hugged Sherlock.

"Everybody hates hearing the truth, it's cruel if they don't like it and weird if it upsets them and sweet if it makes them happy. It's none of them, it's just facts. But fine, I'll stop it." Sherlock pulled John in tightly. "You'll have to shower before you go. It will look odd."

"Yeah it might look a bit odd if I return home sweaty and sticky and sort of smelling like you." John sighed, happy to just be in Sherlock's arms. "Thank you, for no longer rubbing the truth in my face. Let me live in some sort of blissful illusion."

Sherlock made a small 'hmph' noise, lying in silence, letting John rub his side until it was near noon. "John you need to shower, so I can shower so you can go, so I can go."

"Shower with me." John half asked, have ordered.

Raising his eyebrow Sherlock followed John to the bathroom without question. He turned on the warm water, and he and John stepped inside. Sherlock sighed letting the hot water beat on his back. He felt John hold him close. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why not?" John answered. "Maybe I just want to spend more time with you before we have to go our separate ways."

"I don't have your lime shower gel anymore." He muttered, putting some of his own on a sponge, and lightly rubbing John's back with it, going gently over his scar.

"It's fine, don't worry about it." John said, soaking up the heat of the water, and just enjoying being near Sherlock. He enjoyed how he rubbed his back with the sponge. It was so tender and caring. John smiled in spite of himself.

Sherlock took time washing John, kissing his shoulders running the water and soap away till the shower went cold and they were both fresh and soaked. "I love you." he mumbled into the John's lips. "I love you." He didn't make it public obviously, even if they were exclusive he would never act this way around others, but alone Sherlock enjoyed this aspect of being with another person, of being able to be caring.

"I love you too." John got dressed, but he kept Sherlock near him. "I love you so much, and I think the best part of this is you. You are being so caring. God I love it." John said as he took Sherlock into another kiss. He walked to the front door. "I will miss you until I can be with you again." John said pulling Sherlock in again, not wanting to let go.

Sherlock held him tight feeling pain rise in his chest as he inhaled John's freshly cleaned scent. _He likes you like this. He didn't run away when he saw you feel things._ _He likes you so much he's leaving because that's what people do, this doesn't last Sherlock. I know shut up and let me enjoy it! _ "Until I see you again then John." he kissed John's cheek before sending him out the front door, not following to not arouse suspicion.

It only took a few moments before Sherlock felt himself sink, a few hours before he sat in John's chair and when 6 o'clock came around, he was hunched in it rocking. 


	5. Cases

Molly, any unscathed bodies?-SH

Yes. Are you working on a new case? Need to test bruising again? -Molly x

Sure.-SH

I will get him ready for you then. -Molly x

Unscathed, important they're unscathed. I need to see them form.-SH 

[to lestrade] I'm going to go beat bodies for an hour after that there better be a case for me understood?-SH

[Delayed] I will see what I can do, but cases don't just appear out of thin air. Did your talk with John not go so well? –GL

We came to an agreement.-SH  
Well find _something_ god anything for me to do or look at, I don't care if you kill the person yourself.-SH

I will see what I can do, but I am not going to kill anyone. -GL

Good to hear you sorted things out. -GL

Sorted things is not what I'd call it.-SH  
He gets to get me out of his system, he'll stop when the baby comes because he'll love something more than the two people he's caught between and he'll remember just how happy Mary makes him. Then he'll be done with me and perhaps if he and Mary have a row or he needs to get some anger out he'll seek me again for the same purpose as before. We solve cases in the meantime just like before.-SH

That does not seem like a good solution for you at all. Can you really handle being with him, then sending him away to his real life? That seems pretty cold, even for you. –GL

But it's the best solution for him.-SH

But what about you? –GL

Who cares.-SH 

[few hours later] Apparently there's a time limit on how many hours you can beat a dead body for.-SH 

I don't care if you don't have a case I'm coming to the Yard anyway.-SH

Fine, I will see what I have for you to do. Maybe something as come up, I will have to check. –GL

I don't care.-SH

Sherlock punched the text bitterly, twisting the packet of cigarettes he bought in his coat pocket and walking in the Yard with a foul look on his face. He all but threw open Lestrade's door slamming it and pacing, much like he used to do when he was high.

"Something gruesome, I don't care if it's a cold case, just give me something to look at."

"You look terrible." Lestrade said turning away from Sherlock, and shuffling through some files. "I think I have something, just give me a moment to find it."

"Good" Sherlock shot back fidgeting. "It's better like this you know." He blurted out. "It's better this way."

"No its not." Lestrade said pulling out a file. "Here." He opened the file, and spread the images over his desk.

"Well there isn't any other way." Sherlock choked a little, eyes setting hard on the cold case.

"There is another way, you could stop this." Lestrade argued.

Sherlock said nothing for a few moments, his breath heavy. "Is there a reason, Lestrade, why the corpses you keep on showing me are couples who have had their heads bashed in?" His voice was soft and it only took a few moments to register he was wrong. _They aren't a couple you're just seeing what you want to see._

"Not a couple, and you seem to favor head bashing currently." Lestrade said casually.

"Maybe its wishful thinking." Sherlock growled darkly before his mouth set in a thin line. "I know there's another way but he won't get me out of his system if he ignores it and it'll end poorly for him and Mary, besides I just want to know what it's like to have him for a little bit." His voice took on a smallness the D.I had only heard occasionally.

"It is your life Sherlock, just know that the only thing you are accomplishing is hurting yourself, and John." Lestrade said seriously. "So what do you think?" He asked turning to the open file.

Sherlock bought his head up eventually after near twenty minutes of silence, his eyes were hung open and pitiful shoulders slumped, he looked like a lost little boy. "I love him, that's what I think."

"I had meant the case." Lestrade said looking up and Sherlock. He looked like hell. "Just because you love him, does not mean you should do this to yourselves. I mean really Sherlock, have you looked in a mirror lately?"

"Mechanic, it was the mechanic. Yes of course I know what I look like." Sherlock snapped, raking his fingers through his hair shaking. "But I got to hold him for a few moments." He uttered as though it made up for how he felt. "And this, it helps him, it's what he wants."

"I will make the call." Lestrade said closing the file, and putting it aside. "Honestly, how do you think he would he feel if he saw you right now? If he loves you like you say he does, it would kill him to see you like this."

"But he held me!" Sherlock pleaded looking entirely distressed and dejected.

"Look Sherlock, like I said. Do what you will, I don't even care." He threw his hands up with frustration. "Just take care of yourself at least."

Sherlock flinched a bit at the older man's shout. _What are you upset or surprised? Did you want sympathy? Is that what you've become? Yes._ "May I sit in your office for a little while." The question was delivered lowly, he never asked he just invited himself in.

Lestrade looked at Sherlock. He could see he was hurting. "Sure." Lestrade said. "Go ahead."

Sherlock gave a small curt nod of thanks then he busied himself looking through files as Lestrade went about paper work, silence filling the space between them before he spoke. "I am sorry. I know you expected more from me."

"I just don't like you hurting yourself deliberately like this." Lestrade said, not looking up from his paperwork.

"It helps John though." Sherlock muttered, operating outside what was correct to do, what was right in his mind. It reflected in his work with the Yard and of course in his friendships.

"Maybe, just maybe, you should think about someone other than John." Lestrade looked up at Sherlock. "Or, maybe you are just using 'it helps John' as an excuse for your own wants."

He gulped. "Partly true, it's convenient that it's all I've wanted, it's inconvenient it's all he needs for the time being." Sherlock held Lestrade's gaze. He always appreciated the D.I respected him, he didn't bother with treating Sherlock like broke glass. He was honest with him. Helpful, patient and kind of course but he never gave him anything but the truth. Sherlock tried to return the favor in kind though he was a little harsher with his delivery.

"If you do decide to continue whatever it is you have arranged, at least take care of yourself. Find a better way to cope then beating corpses and staring at bloody pictures."

"He doesn't love me the way I love him does he?" Sherlock's voice was flat in defeat, he knew the answer but he was seeking confirmation. "How would you suggest coping then." he scowled.

"How on earth could I know if he loves you the same." Lestrade said, standing up and walking over to a small drawer. He pulled out two crystal glasses, and a bottle of scotch. "Personally, I drink." He said pouring them both a glass.

"Forgive my hypocrisy of judging your self-medication through substances, but how healthy of you." Sherlock took the drink gratefully taking a large sip. "It's not that he doesn't want me but he wants Mary too and you can't split your love like that between that many people, that's why our arrangement is temporary. For when he's had a bad day or..." Sherlock trailed aware he sounded pathetic. "I'm an idiot aren't I?"

"Not an idiot, just a fool in love." Lestrade said, taking a sip from the drink in his hands.

"It hurts." Sherlock managed out, his voice sounding as though somebody had gutted him out from the inside.

"I know." Lestrade said sympathetically, patting Sherlock on the back. "I know the situation sucks, but at least he does love you back. That is something to hold onto I suppose."

Sherlock lent into the hand on his back like it was a life raft. "I never apologized." He blinked, looking at his drink. "To you, properly I think, for lying to you, for leaving, for faking my death."

"I don't think you did, but it is fine. It is just good to see you alive you bloody bastard." Lestrade said with a smile.

"Let me anyway. I had to, Moriarty he was going to kill you and ...and John. Granted I could have let you all in on the plan, but I sincerely doubt that you all would have been able to help, let alone keep your mouth shut. I overestimated how quickly it would take to dismantle the network, 2 years was never my intention and I'm sorry for the hurt I caused." Sherlock cleared his throat before cracking a smirk. "Even if you're a bastard too."

"Thank you Sherlock. I understand why you had to, and you made the right choice." Lestrade said, taking another drink. "Just don't do it again."

"Faking your death once is clever twice is just rude." He mused sipping the scotch, it was nice...smooth. "Nothing can kill me, not even myself. We've established that."

"Damn right it would be rude." Lestrade affirmed. "Good, because you are not allowed to die again. Anderson would lose his mind." Lestrade laughed.

Sherlock snorted. "Who would have thought...I've no intention of it, rather attached to breathing, wouldn't do that to all of you again either."

"Good to hear." Lestrade said, stretching out his arms. "This is nice Sherlock, you should have a crisis more often."

"Piss off." Sherlock shot back, unable to hide his grin. "I forgot sitting in your office and talking to you was nice."

Lestrade sat back and shrugged. "I have my moments."

"In between missing obvious clues for obvious cases." Sherlock pointed out in a sly voice.

"There's the Sherlock I know. Annoying dick." Lestrade said with a small grin.

"Nice to be back." He snickered. For a few moments it felt easy, this is what things should be like, this is how it should be.

"It is almost time for me to head home." Lestrade said. "Any plans for this evening? Some sort of distraction planned?"

"I'll figure it out," Sherlock replied darkly.

"Luck to you Sherlock." Lestrade said as he straightened up his office a bit. "You can stay for a bit longer, just lock up." Lestrade said before grabbing his things and walking out the door.

Sherlock lifted his drink in an almost salute, sitting alone in the office until he finished it. He stalked out of the Yard, storming back to Baker Street bitterly and sitting in John's chair again. He hunched in it watching the sun come up remaining motionless for most of the week, only being coaxed out by Lestrade on some cases always to return to the chair again.

Sherlock –JW

Sherlock looked miserable, a name a signal name and he'd come running, he could at least try and have an enjoyable time first prolong the amount of time they have together

Case has come up, Smith Street, art theft.-SH

Brilliant. Just what I need. I will meet you there shortly. –JW

Sherlock stood in the cold on the corner of Smith Street sucking on a cigarette as he waited for John.

"Sherlock, are you smoking?" John asked as he walked up to him.

"Obviously." He drawled, finishing it and stubbing it out. "Problem? Come on we're going to that gallery."

"Yeah, there's a problem." John muttered as he followed Sherlock to the gallery.

"John I'm an adult, I can smoke if I wish." Sherlock muttered. "These are our clients Brian and Megan, I'm Sherlock Holmes this is Doctor John Watson and..." he paused looking them over. "One of you is lying."

John stood still, watching Sherlock work his magic. He did as he always did, stood like a protector. He knew he did need to protect Sherlock, but it was just his instinct taking over. The soldier's need to protect the ones he loves.

Sherlock raised his eyebrow. "Basement, below this place. Oh look, you didn't know you had one? He does though he's been hiding it from you. I can figure the code out, but it would be easier if you gave it to me." Sherlock gestured for John to follow as they walked down the stairs.

John followed close behind, listening to the sounds of their footsteps as they walked down, lower and lower. "What do you think we will find down here?" John asked, trying to find a way to break the silence.

"The painting, and some back-dated insurance records." Sherlock replied frowning as the door unlocked with the code opening another door. "Pass me that crow bar."

John found the crowbar and handed it to Sherlock. "Here." he said. When Sherlock took the crowbar from John's hands there was a brief moment when their fingers touched.

Sherlock shot his head up with a small smile. "Thank you." He replied, prying open the other door, pointing to the stolen painting. "Husband tries to pass off insurance fraud, wife emails me and he can't say anything because it looks suspicious."

"Brilliant." John said with a smile. He was always so impressed with Sherlock's work, even after all these years.

Sherlock grinned. "How has your past couple of weeks been. I haven't seen you since..."

"Okay I suppose. Bit boring. I have missed you a lot, but I was only able to get the courage to talk to you today." John said looking to the floor.

"Glad you found it, I was getting bored." _You were slipping into insanity._

"I am to." John said with a smile. "I will make sure to contact you more often."

Sherlock gulped; "Whenever you need to." He replied gently leaning back in silence as he watched the couple deal with the fall out of their gallery. "I expect you'd be going home or..."

"We just cracked a case. We should celebrate, or something." John said convincingly. "I want to spend more time with you before I have to go again." he explained.

Sherlock felt his stomach twist as he hailed a cab clutching John's hand for the whole trip back to Baker Street.


	6. The Aftermath

"Great job as always." John said, walking up the stairs. "You really didn't need me there though; I didn't do anything except hand you a crowbar."

"Stop, just stop." Sherlock mumbled. "I need you on cases. I..." He trailed, pulling John in for a deep kiss. "I just need you."

"I need you too." John said after a few minutes of savoring Sherlock's lips. "Tea?" He asked, walking into the kitchen.

"Tea." Sherlock agreed, shutting his eyes and savoring the taste of John on his lips.

John fixed their tea before sitting down in his chair. "What have you been up to in my absence?" He asked curiously.

Sherlock said nothing, feeling a lump in his throat. "Oh you know...the occasional case." He dismissed in an odd voice.

"Ah" John said taking a sip from his tea. He placed his cup on the little table near his chair. "Come here." He said, looking up at Sherlock.

Sherlock dropped into John's arms in an instant, curling in them. "Nothing, I barely did anything."

"Did you spend the whole time alone?" He asked pulling Sherlock tightly to his chest.

"No, I went out on cases, Lestrade and I had a drink in his office." Sherlock mumbled into John's body. "I spent most of it alone, that's how I spend most of my time anyway. That's the agreement."

"I am glad you spent some time with Lestrade." John said, thinking about his words. "You don't have to be alone Sherlock." John said, running his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "If you meet someone that you have even the slightest interest in, please go for it, or something."

Sherlock nodded. "Yes I know...If that happens fine, you've got Mary and your actual life. I know the sexual aspect of our relationship will come to a close but for now I just...let me just have you for a bit, just you. I don't mind the waiting in between."

"Okay." John said. He lifted Sherlock's face to his and enveloped him in a deep, passionate kiss. Sherlock enjoyed the way John's lips tasted, the way his body lent into his, the slight movement from his toes wriggling; his toes always wriggled when he sat. "Makes waiting worth it."

"The way I find myself feeling." John droned in between kisses. "I can't believe there was ever a time in which we were not like _this."_ John said diving back into Sherlock's lips.

"Well there wasn't really." Sherlock's words poured into Johns' mouth. "Take away the physical intimacy and you still have a close friendship. We speak to each other the same but you're holding me naked this time around."

"I like it better this way." John mumbled. He ran his hand down Sherlock's chest, pushing fabric out of the way so he could feel skin.

"I like the closeness." Sherlock mumbled. Sentences fell out of his mouth without thought. Being like this around John was like being high.

"I love it." John agreed. He ran his hands down the whole length of Sherlock's body, desperate to be as close to him as possible.

"I like being yours." Sherlock groaned a bit as John's hands fondled him.

"I love that you are mine." John said. Each movement was so wonderful, ever bit of him indulged in the task of melting himself into Sherlock.

Sherlock moaned at John's words. "Say I'm yours again." He muttered, his bruise fading from his neck.

John moved his lips right next to Sherlock's ear. "You. Are. Mine." John whispered sensually.

Sherlock dipped his head into John's shoulders. "Again." He demanded.

"You are mine." John growled. His voice dropped to a low tone as he kissed the side of Sherlock's face.

Sherlock nodded feverishly, he needed to be reminded. It curved the loneliness; it made it bearable if he was reminded. "Prove it."

John moved Sherlock so that he was sitting atop the detective. He kissed him. Slow, deliberate, tender. He focused on each movement, everything he did was meticulous. He removed Sherlock's shirt and jacket as he sucked on the faded bruise. He moved his mouth to Sherlock's ear. "I love you." he whispered before gently sucking on Sherlock's ear lobe.

Sherlock gasped, arching his back the moment he felt his ear lobe sucked. "Oh, oh." was all he whispered out, shocked by how kind John's touch felt. "I love you too." He choked, writhing underneath John, feeling himself be teased and bitten.

"You are mine Sherlock. Only mine." John whispered. He brought his hand down, and massaged the outside of Sherlock's pants, all the while kissing and nibbling on Sherlock's neck and ear.

"Only yours." He breathed back heavily, hips bucking at the new sensation. "Just yours, only for you."

"Yes... That's right." John breathed into Sherlock's mouth. "Tell me what you need Sherlock." John demanded.

Something in John's tone, the possessiveness, the control, ignited a fire in Sherlock. "You" He whimpered, moaning uncontrollably looking thoroughly disheveled and coming undone. "You, I need you, I need all of you. I want all of you. I want to make you feel good."

"Oh God Sherlock." John whimpered. Sherlock's words made him feel weak, and full of longing. "I can't lose you again. Never again."

"You won't." Sherlock clutched John tightly "You won't, you never will, I'll be here whenever you like waiting for you."

"Good... Good…" John whimpered. He slid down Sherlock's body until he got to his waist. He pulled Sherlock's pants down just enough for him to be full exposed. John ran his tongue down the full length of Sherlock's cock. He took him into his mouth, sucking and licking in a made rhythm.

Sherlock let out a low long grown, pounding his head against the back of the chair three times to try and shut himself up. John lifted his head to look at Sherlock's face while he twirled his tongue around the head, licking up all the pre-cum. Once Sherlock was licked clean, John moved back up his body, nipping, licking, sucking every inch he could find.

"John" He whined underneath him. "Please, god please stop the teasing, I'll do anything." He begged, tugging at his own curls, his arousal now painful.

John chuckled. There was something deeply satisfying about have Sherlock beg him for release. "Anything?" John asked. He smiled lustfully.

"Anything." He affirmed, gasping for breath. "Anything, just ask."

John undid his pants, and presented himself to Sherlock. "Down." He said. One word conveying all he needed.

"Yes John." Fell from his mouth as Sherlock dropped to his knees immediately without thought or protest. He licked his lips lowering his mouth onto John's cock licking and sucking it greedily until he found rhythm pushing it in to the back of his throat.

John arched his back and moaned loudly, pleasure coursing through his whole body. "Oh God, Sherlock, oh God... oh fuck.." John whimpered as he threw his head back against the chair.

Sherlock felt lifted at the approval, he felt almost like he was better for making John feel so good. It was odd to feel like somebody's, to be looked at like he was beautiful. He wondered if John realized he would do this as long as he asked, as many times at the drop of a hat, just because he wanted to be John's. He would go months of waiting or seconds.

John lifted Sherlock's head back up, taking him into a ruff, needy kiss. He grabbed Sherlock's length and pumped quickly while he bit down on Sherlock's neck. He was going to release him. Let pleasure fill him.

Sherlock yelped a little in shock as he was pulled up buckling at the knees as John pumped him quickly, moaning deeply into his shoulder as he felt John's teeth sink in.

John let go with his teeth. "You are amazing." John whispered into Sherlock's ear. "You are smart. You are brilliant. You are sexy. You are mine." He grabbed his own cock with Sherlock's and pleasured them both together.

Whimpering, he nodded. "Yours, just yours." He whispered back, shaking in pleasure, "Oh fuck, John please, please I'm going to-"

John growled in a dark, pleasure strained voice. Within seconds he fell out of reality as he was thrown into a world of pure light. He shook violently as his orgasm pierced through him. He crashed back to earth as reality returned. He never stopped moving his hand, trying to get the detective released. "Cum for me Sherlock." John demanded as a soft whisper in Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock looked almost frightful of John's tone. He held John tight as his body jerked forward in pleasure practically howling obscenely when John gave him permission to cum. He felt the orgasm rip through him. Quivering and collapsing a little in John's arms he shuddered, he felt sore, sweaty and shocked.

John sighed as his breath and heart beat returned to normal. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock, pulling him in tight. John played with Sherlock's curls absentmindedly as he listened to Sherlock try to regain control of his breath.

"Can we sit down?" Sherlock coughed a bit, trying to hide the stutter in his voice. His mind still reeling as John pulled him down on the couch and into his arms. "I...that.."

"Yes?" John asked, trying to urge Sherlock to finish his thought.

"I'd do anything for you." Sherlock muttered, eyes hung open a bit. "I didn't realize how much I meant it until then."

John smiled, and grabbed Sherlock's hand. "It's not a one way street you know." John said, petting the back of Sherlock's hand. "I will do anything I can for you. If you ever need anything..." John trailed off.

"It is a bit." Sherlock replied wearily, exhausted. "You like it don't you, telling me what to do?"

"Yeah, uh, yeah I do." John said, a slight blush creeping on his face. "Is that... Is that okay with you?"

"If it's what you want, then yes." Sherlock nodded, kissing John's cheek.

"That is very sweet." John said, taking both of Sherlock's hands in his, and looking deep into his eyes. "But that is not what I want to hear. I want your actually opinion or feeling on the matter, not just what you think I want to hear."

Sherlock bit his lips. "I like it, it makes me feel wanted. Like I'm yours...it makes being lonely in between not as bad because I get to be yours. If that's what you like if that's what's going to keep you coming back for as long as possible then I like it." He grinned, "And you're exceptionally sexy when you tell me what to do."

"You know-" John said, laying his head on Sherlock's shoulder, and looking up at him. "You make it quite the impossible task to not love you."

"That's not the point of this; the point of this is to get you to stop loving me."

"Well, it's not working. I love you more than ever." John dragged his fingers up and down Sherlock's leg, tracing little lines.

"You're going to leave eventually." Sherlock muttered "I know you don't like the truth after we've just fucked. but it's the truth."

"I'm not listening." John said. He lifted is head off of Sherlock's shoulder, and kissed his cheek.

"Well you should be." Sherlock whispered softly, burying his head in John's body.

"Perhaps, but I am not real prone to doing the right thing anymore." John wrapped his arms around Sherlock, leaned back, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

"I'm a bad influence on you." Sherlock clutched him tight.

"No, well maybe. Who knows." He gave Sherlock a comforting squeeze "I am not going anywhere."

"Not yet, but soon." He whispered. "Just tell me I'm yours again. It'll stop me from wanting anyone else to fill the gaps."

"You are mine. All mine, and no one else's." John said kindly, petting Sherlock's head.

"I don't need anyone else in between." Sherlock muttered.

"Okay." John kissed the top of Sherlock's head.

"We're not a couple." Sherlock growled a little still holding John.

"I... I know." John sighed, keeping Sherlock close.

"Do you?" Sherlock pressed shivering a little cold.

"Yes..." John said slowly. "Do you?"

Sherlock said nothing in reply, simply standing he leant over and grabbed a blanket for the pair of them.

John wrapped the blanket around the both of them, snuggling deeply into Sherlock's arms. "Never mind, you don't have to answer that."

Sherlock felt his heart ache a little as John wriggled his way under the detective's arms. "Believe me I'm keenly aware, why do you think I ask you to leave your wedding ring on? It's so I don't get carried away in my own fantasy."

John felt a heavy pain in his chest, a mixture of sadness and regret. "I am sorry I am doing this to you..."

"You aren't sorry, that's guilt. If you were sorry, you wouldn't do it, but you will keep on going till it's time to stop because you can't stop how you feel and I'm letting you, I'm, letting you try and stop that. I want this."

"I do feel guilty. I feel like I am using you, and that is not fair..." John burrowed his face into Sherlock's chest.

"You are and it isn't, but I agreed to it so it hardly matters or counts." Sherlock kissed John's head lovingly as though they were a couple. "I want this, let me have it even for a short time."

"I can pretend that I am doing this for you, and not myself. That will help me live with it." John said, his voice slightly strained with sadness.

"You are doing this for me." Sherlock assured in John's ear soothingly. "Because I love you and you're being kind." _He really isn't but if it makes him feel better…_

John exhaled softly, using Sherlock's words to build a false, safe reality he can use to justify his actions. He sat up, grabbed his tea off the table, and took a sip. "Tea's gone cold."

"Don't care." Sherlock sighed a little "Don't want tea, I can heat yours for you though." Without waiting for a response, he walked to the kitchen placing the mug in the microwave, really seeking an excuse to be with his own thoughts for a few moments. "You're not staying the night this time are you?" He realized slowly.

"No, not tonight." John said sadly. He unruffled himself as he talked.

Sherlock swallowed with some difficulty, handing him the now warm tea. "Have a shower when you're done with that then."

"Are you upset with me?" John asked, drinking his tea thirstily.

"No" Came the hoarse voiced almost gritted reply "Even if I was, I wouldn't have a right to be. You have a pregnant wife."

John finished his tea, and then leaned back with closed eyes. _What are you doing John?_ The question ran through his mind on repeat.

"I have no idea what you're doing, answer it yourself." Sherlock sighed, reading his face.

John opened his eyes. "I was working on that. Sort of. Try to stay out of my head."

Sherlock set his jaw a little rigidly. "Fine." He muttered, unsure what else he wasn't allowed to do. "I might go have a shower while you think."

John jumped to his feet, grabbed Sherlock, and pulled him down so that they were the same height. He kissed him deeply, drawing in his essence. "Have a good shower."

Sherlock moaned a little, gently grasping at John's hair and loosing himself for a few moments looking utterly distraught when they broke apart. "Don't." He uttered to himself, stalking to the shower and letting the hot water intentionally burn his back.

John sat in his chair. His head hurt from all of the excuses, all the lies. He knew he was going to continue "being" with Sherlock, but he hated himself for it. _When I am with Sherlock, there will be nothing else. When I am with Mary, there will be nothing else. Two__different lives. No guilt._

Sherlock let out a small frustrated groan pounding his fist against the shower wall, furious with himself. _He's not yours, he's not yours, and this is just a break from his actual life for him. He's not yours but you're his there's a difference!_

John didn't want to think anymore, thoughts are painful. He walked around, looking at everything. So many memories...

Sherlock snapped the water off, dripping wet he stalked to his room. Pajamas, that's what he wanted. He wanted to sit and do nothing; not think, not move, not breath. He let out a strangled sob crouching on the floor, wet curls dropping water on his pajamas.

John heard the shower stop. He listened to the sounds of doors opening and closing. He sank when he heard the sound of Sherlock crying coming from his room. John walked quietly to the door, not sure if he should go in, or leave well enough alone.

Sherlock barely registered the movement outside his door, sniffling and too wrapped up in the ache in his chest.

John took a deep breath before deciding to open the door. He walked inside to see Sherlock crumbled, sobbing on his bed. John carefully sat next to him, and put his arm around Sherlock's shoulder, not sure if he was helping, or making everything worse.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock whimpered, his body shaking.

"Comforting you. I'm doing a pretty bad job of it apparently." John said, petting Sherlock gently.

"You're not mine, you're not mine I'm yours and there's a difference." Sherlock shouted out.

"While I am here, I am yours. Any time I am here. Every time I am here. Yes, only when I am here, but it's something."

"But no matter where you are Mary is yours and your Mary's, do you see the difference?" His voice cracked.

"Yes I see the difference. Dammit all, I am breaking you Sherlock! Can't you see that?" John said angrily. His anger at himself was starting to break out.

Sherlock flinched a bit at John's anger. "I don't care, I don't care I'm fine!"

"No you are not!" John shouted as he grabbed Sherlock's shoulders roughly, and turned him so he was looking at John. "I don't care what you say, you are not okay!"

Trying to wriggle out of John's grip proved difficult. "Well too bad!" He snarled "It's not your problem!"

"Yes it is." John growled. "I care about you, so it is my problem. Hell, I am the problem."

Sherlock felt his eyes widen unable to move. "Well you seem to be enjoying being the problem! Why don't you order me around some more, see how pathetic you can make me!?"

"Stop it, you just stop it!" John shouted through clenched teeth. His face turned red with anger.

"Or what!?" Sherlock spat aggressively trapped underneath the other enraged man.

"Or I will leave. I will leave, and you will never see me again." John's eyes glowered. "Just stop. Calm down and talk to me."

"Get off me then, you're hurting me!" Sherlock snapped, feeling fear push him over.

John's eyes widen as he quickly got off of Sherlock, and pulled him into a sitting position. "Sorry, I didn't mean to..." The anger quickly left his voice.

"You did" Sherlock spat. "Its fine, that was the particular of the agreement anyway wasn't it? When you wanted me when you were angry, you can't blow up at Mary like that." He sat bitterly shaking. "Why did you pick her?"

"I DIDN'T mean to hurt you." John's voice was quiet and harsh. "There is no 'agreement' where it is okay for me to hurt you." He took a breath. "I 'picked' her because you were dead, or did you forget that you ruined my life with your 'death'?"

"When you're angry with Mary you come over and fuck me, I believe was the agreement." Sherlock bit out. "And I'm SORRY! I've told you a thousand times but it was either let you think I was dead or have you be killed!"

"I do not want to get into it again, sorry I brought it up." John said. His head was starting to hurt. "Even if that is part of the 'agreement', I cannot hurt you, or take advantage of you. Tell me next time if I do something that bothers you. Tell me at the time instead of throwing it in my face during an argument later on."

"Don't pin me down like that in an argument next time then," Sherlock cracked, his shoulders aching. "they'll bruise."

"Of course." John said, rubbing the sides of his head. "Never again."

"You have to go soon." Sherlock pointed out dully, glancing at John's phone which could be heard going off in the lounge. "It's fine, you're not the first person to do that when I've been fighting with them. Certainly the least painful thing to have happened."

John stood up, and walked into the lounge to answer his phone. After a minute he walked back into Sherlock's room. "That was Mary." John said, holding up his phone. "I have to go."

Sherlock paled, his eyes went a little wide and watery. "Right of course, is...is everything okay?"

"No, but we will have to deal with it later." John said taking a step toward Sherlock. He kissed him on the cheek. "I do love you, but god you frustrate me."

"And you rip me in two so I guess we're even." He gritted out, kissing John's lips. "I love you, until next time then."

He shivered when the door closed, hunched on his bed, staying that way for weeks. He made a sport of ignoring Mrs. Hudson's knocks, Mycroft's calls and Lestrade's texts and cases. He looked over at the unchecked messages from the D.I. It had been two weeks he hadn't moved, 51 un-read texts glowed on his phone. He rolled his eyes.

What?-SH


	7. More Texts

Thank god, what is going on? I have been trying to get a hold of you for weeks. –GL

Haven't moved for a couple weeks.-SH

My shoulders are bruised.-SH

How did you bruise your shoulders, and why as that stopped your from answering your phone? -GL

It hasn't I just didn't want to move.-SH

John came over a couple weeks ago, after...after we...we had a fight before he left. He pinned me.-SH

Why did John pin you? Or was it some sexual thing. –GL

No we had sex before that.-SH

I was angry with him, I told him that he wasn't mine I was his but he and Mary belonged to each other all the time and he said he understood the difference. But he must have just gotten angry because he told me he was breaking me and I snapped at him he wasn't then he pinned told me if I didn't stop he'd leave and wouldn't come back. He didn't stay the night this time.-SH

Sounds like you need to get out of the house. Come down to the Yard? -GL

No.-SH  
I'm not going anywhere I'm waiting for him to want to see me again.-SH  
You said I wasn't allowed to beat things in between.-SH

What if he doesn't contact you? What will you do then? -GL

I will Wait. -SH

He said he loves me. –SH

Well, you need him, so contact him. Stop obsessing on the arrangement, and do something for yourself. –GL

He's with Mary and she's pregnant.-SH  
I don't need him! The both of you stop, I'm fine.-SH

No you are not, you are breaking. –GL

Good! –SH

I want to. If I get him, I want to break. –SH

Look, just text him. No harm in that, right? –GL

Plenty of harm, but fine. –SH

[To John]

Busy? –SH

No –JW

Am I allowed to ask you to come? –SH

Yes. I will be there soon. –JW

Are you mad? –SH

No, why do you ask? –JW

Just worried.-SH  
I'm in my room.-SH

Sherlock neglected to mention he hadn't left the bed since John had left three weeks ago.


	8. John Returns

John walked into 221B and headed to Sherlock's room. He opened the door to see Sherlock sitting on his bed. "You don't look so good."

"Haven't moved." He replied, sounding like he had motivated himself to breath.

"You haven't moved? You haven't been here since I left, right?" John asked, voice and face showing concern.

"You said I was yours so I waited. You said that if I didn't stop you'd leave and I didn't want you to leave." Sherlock grimaced, he barely felt like himself, yet he felt more like himself than ever. He either felt everything or nothing; he didn't do things by halves. It was the crux of his passion and a cold heart.

"Sherlock…" John felt like crying. He sat down on the bed next to him, and pulled him into an embrace.

"Why are you crying?" He frowned confused by the embrace. "What are you doing? I don't understa-Ow!" Sherlock hissed "Shoulders are still bruised, careful."

"Sorry… sorry…sorry.." John mumbled over and over. He loosened his grip, so as not to hurt Sherlock further.

"Why? Why are you crying?"

"Because of me, a brilliant man is now nothing." John couldn't look Sherlock in the eyes. "I broke you. I killed who you were. Sitting on a bed waiting for me for weeks like a dog. It's sick!"

"You hate me." Sherlock whispered out terrified. His voice was wobbling much like a kicked puppy that John had described.

"No, I love you. The real you. Not the person I turned you into." John said, his voice shaky. "I want to be with you Sherlock, but not if you are going to do this to yourself."

"But you're not with me." Sherlock gulped "Stop saying you'll be with me if you're not, this is what it does. It's just sex it doesn't mean anything."

"No, I meant- AH!" John shouted with frustration before calming himself. "The fact of the matter is that this is not sex without feelings. It isn't that simple."

"But you don't love me." Sherlock cocked his head letting his deductive tone take over.

"You have got to be kidding! It is because I love you, that we are in this mess. Do you really think I would tell you I love you Just to have sex with you, and ruin my marriage? Really, Sherlock."

"No, but you don't love me like you love her." Sherlock kept a machine like tone on, it was easier to do it this way. "I miss my blogger."

"I am still your blogger, you just seem to not want me around much anymore." John explained. "I said that if you needed me, to just go ahead and contact me. I miss you."

"I was worried Mary would get suspicious." Sherlock explained, wincing in guilt as he said her name.

"I am allowed to hang out with you, we are best friends. There is nothing suspicious about me spending time with you." John said. He felt so bad, but even in all his guilt, he still wanted to bring Sherlock to him. He kept his urges just that for now.

"Lestrade knows." Sherlock mumbled, unable to look at John. He shouldn't know but there wasn't much they could do now. "You still don't love me like you love her."

"It is a different sort of love. One is not more than the other. The way I love you is friendship, passion, attraction, memories, need." John said with passion. "It is wonderful and dangerous and perfect. Just like you."

Sherlock felt his lip tug at dangerous but he pursed his lips. "But it's still different to how I love you, I love you the way Mary loves you the way you love her. It's more than friendship or passion or a need or nostalgia. I'm memories to you John, that's all I can be."

"I can only love you, the way I love you, and if that isn't enough for you..." John's voice trailed off.

"Temporarily." Sherlock finished for him "You can only love me temporarily." The detective clacked his tongue. "It's not, but I want to have you love me even for a little bit. Love me like this I mean."

"Fine, but then you have to do something for me." John said, finding the courage to look into Sherlock's eyes. "You can't wait for me to text you. If you need me, just ask. You cannot let yourself get dragged so low that you don't leave your room. You cannot tell yourself that you belong to only me. Go out, work cases, and spend time with Lestrade. Don't let me consume you. Can you do this?"

"You said I did though." Sherlock frowned. "That's what you want, you like me only belonging to you."

"When I am here, you are mine and mine alone, but only when I am here. When it is just the two of us at Baker Street, it is a different life. A different world. A time to forget all else and be happy. There is no Mary, just us." John said, desperately trying to get Sherlock to understand. "There is the real world, then there's Baker Street."

"For you, you get to go back to your own life." Sherlock bit his lip "Just...I'll do what you ask, I won't wait for you okay? Just stop I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Okay, sorry. It just all needed to be said out loud." John said, deciding that he was done resisting his urges. He grabbed Sherlock and pulled him in closely to his chest, planting tender kisses to Sherlock's face and neck, lovingly tussling his hair. He noticed that Sherlock was looking away with a sad expression.

"What's the matter?" John asked softly, stroking Sherlock lovingly.

"I don't want to do something wrong in this...area" He gestured to the bed. "You're...you have more experience."

"You can't do anything wrong. Just do something, anything. Whatever fancy's you. If I'm not 'into it' I will let you know, okay? Just relax, and don't worry about anything." John said with a reassuring smile.

Sherlock pulled away and lent against the head board slowly. "I'm not used to people being kind." He admitted bluntly. "I...what fantasy would you like, what do you like?" He bit his lip. "I'm asking, not deducing. I want to know the proper way."

"No, not this time." John said. "What do YOU want? I want you to take charge this time round."

Sherlock looked down a little, he couldn't meet his eyes. In truth, he hated how embarrassed he got about sex. He was such a private person, the secretive nature filled every aspect of his life. "I like it when..." He cleared his throat "If you could, I liked when you pulled rank in Baskerville. It was exceptionally arousing."

"Good." John said with a smile. "Now tell me, what do you want me to do?"

Sherlock shut his eyes. "Tell me what to do...if I don't do it, punish..." He winced, blushing "Just be like a commanding officer." He bit his lip. He had a thing for soldiers.

John closed his eyes, and then snapped them open. "You will call me Captain Watson. Do you understand me?" His voice became very serious.

"Yes" Sherlock shudder a little, in pleasure at his tone of voice. "Yes Captain Watson."

"Good." His eyes emptied of all emotion, and his voice gained a harsh tone. "Strip."

Sherlock nodded as his obedience came automatically, he removed his clothes sitting on the bed naked looking at John expectantly.

"Now strip me. Slowly." John demanded.

Sherlock moved his fingers up to John's clothes, shaking slightly as he removed them, hoping it was slow enough. When he was done, he folded the clothes and put them aside. "Yes Captain."

John sat down on the bed next to Sherlock. "Kiss my neck."

He cocked his head curiously, complying, licking and biting him. "Like this John-" he froze. "Cap...captain I meant."

John's head was spinning, his heart pounded in his ears. "Yes…" He moaned, trying to stay in character. "Tease me. Make me need you." John growled. "Do it."

Sherlock groaned a little kissing him as slowly as possible, teasing him painfully until John's cock was leaking pre-cum. Sherlock was panting by this stage, he craved this. It was better than drugs. Sometimes losing himself to this, he didn't have to think. Being with John was better than coke.

"Oh god." John moaned. He couldn't contain himself any longer. He jumped on Sherlock, knocking him over so he was lying flat on the bed. "Get the lube. Get yourself ready for me." His voice was ruff.

Sherlock looked up at him in shock; he'd never opened himself up in front of another person before. He felt his cock twitch happily at that prospect of being instructed to do it, ordered around. "No." He argued with a smirk.

John grabbed the lube out of the drawer and threw it to Sherlock. "Now."

It hit Sherlock in the chest with a small thud, falling into his hands. "In front of you, I can't Captain." He faked a tremble in his voice. "Now or what?"

"Now, right now. While I watch." His voice was cold. "You do not want to disobey."

Sherlock squirmed a little at the humiliation, wishing he enjoyed it less. He slicked up a finger, trying to press the outside of his hole before shaking his head. "Well then, I disobey."

John growled. He pinned Sherlock down, rendering him unable of motion. He shoved two fingers inside of Sherlock roughly. Moving, stretching, and pushing farther in. He clamped his teeth down on Sherlock's neck, biting down hard enough to break the skin.

Sherlock yelped in pain, no lubricant no warning. "Captain, Captain I'm sorry please it hurts I don't like it." A blatant lie. He whimpered as his cock growed harder from the pain, shivering in delight as he felt the blood trickle lightly down his neck.

"Then you should not have disobeyed me." John said, letting go of Sherlock's neck. "Will you do as you were told now?"

"I don't think I have learned my lesson yet Captain." Sherlock drawled almost sinfully.

John's eyes burned with a mixture of fake rage and arousal. He removed his fingers from Sherlock, shoved them in Sherlock's mouth and shoved them back, deep inside the detective. "How's that for lubricant?" John hissed in Sherlock's ear. He added another finger, pushing deeper and harder.

Sherlock choked a bit, seeing a slight sting in his eyes from tears spilling slightly, the pain was overwhelming, releasing even. "Oh, oh god yes." He grunted "Captain I...I'm sorry I'll do as I'm told" He gasped. "Can I use lube?"

John got off of Sherlock, handed him the lube, and sat back. "Go."

Sherlock looked down, blushing as he inserted fingers into himself, opening himself up and moaning.

John watched, feeling himself grow painfully hard. He licked his lips, loving the way Sherlock moaned. "Good."

Sherlock writhed underneath himself inserting another finger and then another.

"You are done now." John said. He climbed on top of Sherlock and moved Sherlock's legs onto his shoulders so that he was spread open. "Beg for it. Beg your Captain."

Sherlock was still a bit hoarse in voice. "Please" He whispered. "Please fuck me. Please Captain Watson."

John pushed into Sherlock. Not even taking time to warm up, he instantly began pushing hard and fast. Pressing Sherlock down hard on the bed, John took his lips, shoving his tongue deep into Sherlock's mouth, tasting every inch.

Sherlock gagged a little at the intrusions he coughed wincing as John gripped his hair shoving his face aside. "John." He croaked out a little frightfully. "Jo-John!"

John could hear the slight ping of fear in Sherlock's voice. He slowed down, and pulled up to look at Sherlock's face. "Are you okay?" He asked, completely falling out of character.

"No" Sherlock shuddered, quivering into John's arms.

John stopped, pulling himself free of Sherlock. "What happened? What did I do?" He sounded panicked.

Sherlock panted, still painfully hard he kissed John softly. "You, you- I changed my mind, I just want you to fuck me. Don't be anyone else."

"Okay, but are you sure you are okay?" John asked before doing anything.

"Yes." Sherlock nodded, kissing John's neck in a needy way.

John nodded, getting back on Sherlock. He pushed himself back in, setting a rhythm that was pleasurable, but not ruff. He kissed Sherlock again, but with more care.

Sherlock groaned into John's mouth clutching him, rutting madly against the other. "Oh god, that's good."

"Oh Sherlock..." John moaned. He kissed the side of Sherlock's neck that had not been bitten.

Sherlock arched his back, pushing John deeper into him. "I love you." he mumbled out, gently kissing his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too." John muttered into Sherlock's neck. He quickened his pace, and wrapped his hands in Sherlock's hair. "Oh... Oh... God, Sherlock... oh..." John mumbled moving his lips back to Sherlock's.

Sherlock whimpered into John's bruising kiss, the sex was becoming longing, almost needing to consume every part of each other.

John could feel himself getting close, so he licked his hand, and then he grabbed Sherlock's cock and began massaging him. "You like this, Sherlock?" John panted, as he went to gently suck on Sherlock's ear lobe.

"Fuuuck!" Sherlock arched his back howling. "Yes, oh fuck yes John."

"Oh God! Oh God! Fuck!" John moaned. "Sherlock... uuhh uhh uhh SHERLOCK!" John shouted out as he was thrown into an earth shattering orgasm.

Sherlock jerked forward letting out a small cry as he came hard against his stomach, holding John tightly.

John pulled himself off of Sherlock, and collapsed next to him panting. "Wow... Fuck..."

Sherlock gulped a little, shaking. "You should go."

"What, why?" John asked, extremely confused.

"Because I texted you, which means you didn't make plans to allow yourself to stay over." Sherlock cleared his throat. "And frankly, I don't want you to." _Liar, he can tell when you lie, you're trying too hard to sound like yourself._

"One sec." John said, standing up and leaving the room. He came back a few minutes later with bandages. "I can stay." John said sitting down next to Sherlock. "Now hold still so I can take care of that." He said referring to the open bite mark on Sherlock's neck.

"I can do it myself." Sherlock muttered, snatching the bandages away and hissing as he applied antiseptic.

"I'm uh, I'm sorry about that." John said, watching Sherlock dress his wound. "I didn't mean to bite that hard."

Sherlock shrugged. "You did, but I did request it, so no harm." His voice was detached. It physically pained him to do it. "This is what you wanted right? Me back to myself." His words were a little harsh as he put the bandages aside.

"Uh, did I say or do something wrong?" John asked concerned. It bothered him how cold and detached Sherlock was acting toward him.

"I'm trying to do what you ask." Sherlock sighed exasperated. "You said I had to be yours so I waited for three weeks, you said I had to tell you what I liked so I complied, you said I couldn't be a little puppy I had to be the man you love so I'm trying." Sherlock's voice cracked. "Did you ever take in to account the fact it was nice to be able to be affectionate without fear of ridicule, that being cold to you isn't something that I want to do all the time."

"This is the last thing I will say. Forget everything else I have said." John said. "What will make me happy, and you happy will be for you to do what you want. Can you do that?"

"Can you leave it?!" Sherlock snapped. "I don't...I don't talk about this for a reason."

"It is dropped. Dropped forever." John said putting his hands in the air. He smiled slightly.

Sherlock dipped his head a little burying it in his knees, he muttered slightly to himself.

John jumped on Sherlock, pulled him tightly into his arms, and kissed deeply. "I love you." He said pulling away with a smile.

Sherlock glowered shaking him off. "You don't." He spat "You love the memory of me. The sociopath who whisks you to crime scenes and makes you feel like the better person because you're a moral compass."

"No, not going to let you pick a fight." John said, kissing Sherlock again "Not this time."

"Why are you so intent on ignoring the truth? Oh I forgot you don't like a healthy dose of reality after you've finished sleeping with the man who is most certainly not your wife."

"No, I don't. Sorry Sherlock, I am not going to fight with you. Good effort though." John smirked.

"I'm not allowed to do anything. You claim you want me to do what I like but I'm not allowed to 'get inside your head' or tell you the truth or wait or need you in any way at all.

"Do you get off on fighting with me?" John asked. "Because it seems that way." John sighed. "I will not argue with you, but good effort."

"I'm not trying to pick a fight." Sherlock's voice cracked a little helplessly. "I'm just trying to tell you the truth. That I'm too afraid to hug you now in case you get mad.

"Not mad." John said as he hugged Sherlock tightly.

"But I'm not the memory you're in love with." Sherlock trembled. "And you'll go because you don't need me."

"I need you more than you know, and I am not going anywhere." John said, pulling Sherlock Closer. "If you need me then leave her." Sherlock whispered wincing, _He won't. The resigned truth in his head, he'll say I'm sorry I can't._

"I don't know..." John said, thinking deeply. "It's not as easy as all that."

"I know." Sherlock whimpered. "I...I need a shower." _No you just wanted to burn yourself with the hot water._

"Fine, but not alone this time."


	9. The Shower

Sherlock shrugged. Taking John by the hand, he led him into the shower and turning on the water, feeling everything wash away. He leaned against the tiles, a little dejected, too unsure to be affectionate.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock, and kissed his cheek. "Cheer up?"

"Nobody ever wants me when I'm affectionate." he mumbled into John's shoulders.

"I do." John said encouraging. "I love it."

"You love the idea of me." Sherlock corrected. "And I'll keep correcting you of it each time you say it." He sighed, rubbing some soap gently over John's body. "You're so perfect." He marveled.

John chuckled. "I am far from perfect, and every time you say that I am only in love with the idea of you, I will just do this-" John kissed Sherlock lovingly. "Love you."

"You know it does more damage than good." Sherlock whispered kissing the man's shoulders and neck. "You are perfect, everything about you. Your body, your mind, your heart."

"I do more damage than good." John reminded Sherlock. "That is nice of you to say, but you are wrong this time. If one of us is perfect, it is you, not me."

Sherlock snorted. "Former junkie who solves crimes to not getting high." He waved his hand. "Hello. Let's not forget, malcontent, mentally unstable, insecure, uncomfortable with feelings, massive god complex, annoying dick, emotionally manipulative. Shall I go on?"

"Man who is cheating on his wife with his best friend, effectively ruining three people's lives, knows he is doing this, but still refuses to stop, causing his best friend that he loves to struggle and suffer." John said blatantly.

Sherlock's face blanked. "Hopelessly in love with his best friend and making him try and return it even though he doesn't feel it the same way. Can't cope on his own because he's afraid of himself."

John's face fell, and his heart sank. He grabbed Sherlock and held him tightly, not letting go for anything. "Sorry." He said.

"Let me just... just let me." He sighed, moving out of the hug, rubbing soap lovingly into John's body. "Just let me do this. You know once this ends I can't see you for a bit, will that be fine?"

"I suspected as much." John said, watching the water fall against the floor tiles.

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. "You can't really be mad."

"I'm not mad. Not at all." John said, turning to Sherlock.

"You need to tell me when you stop it, it can't just be you leave like it's the same thing. You need to say we're not doing this anymore."

"Oh, of course. I would never do that to you."

"And when you stop loving me, and you will stop, you can't say it anymore."

"I would not say it if it were not true."

"You don't mean it how I mean it." Sherlock replied almost mournfully.

"Maybe, maybe not. Either way I do love you." John said. He watched soap mix with water, all steadily flowing down a drain.

Sherlock nodded, playing with John's hair. "Needs a wash." he mumbled, gently massaging shampoo into it, John's shampoo actually. He went and bought the brand after the first shower they had.

"Thanks." John said, closing his eyes in enjoyment. "Is this- is this my brand?"

"Mhmm, bought it for you." Sherlock kissed the top of John's hair as he rinsed his head. "Sorry too...too needy."

"I like it." John smiled brightly.

Sherlock pulled John close to his body. "Mmm, well I like you." He muttered, moving his kisses down John's torso before he found himself on his knees. "Please?" He pressed his lips, hovering above John's length.

"God yes." John said, leaning against the wall.

"You're so beautiful." Sherlock mumbled, his lips taking all of John in his mouth, licking and sucking greedily. He let out a small moan. Admittedly he quite liked this activity. "What do you want." He mumbled with his mouth full. "We had my desire before, now what's yours?"

John had to clear his mind before he could speak. "Well.. I, uh, I want you to... to fuck me." John said through strain.

Sherlock sucked slowly, teasing John. "Okay...I'll go slow. You haven't had anybody take you before have you?" He pressed kisses to the inside of John's thighs before turning him around and lightly tonguing his hole.

John yelped with surprise at the new sensation, and then fell into it. "N-no I ha-haven't." John stuttered out.

"Mhmm" Sherlock hushed him, gently slicking up his fingers up and inserting one slowly. "Shh, just stretching you." He kissed John's shoulders, wriggling him around for a while until he could put another finger moving up to massage his prostate. "One more so I know you can take me."

John winced, and whimpered. It was like nothing he had ever felt, a mixture of pain and pleasure. He could feel himself starting to tear up, but he gain enough control so as not to. "O-ok-kay." John said, voice shaky.

Sherlock paused his third finger poised. "I could fuck you like this? It wouldn't hurt as much, you'd enjoy it."

"N-no I need you. A-all of y-you." John panted. His mind was buzzing, and his anticipation was driving him mad. "D-do it. P-please."

Sherlock felt himself twitch in arousal. He hated himself for it all because John said he needed him. "Okay." he complied moving the third finger up scissoring him open. "Are you ready?'" He kissed John's neck gently taking his fingers out and slowly pushing himself in, groaning. "Oh you feel so good, so tight."

John cried out with a mixture of pain and pleasure. The feeling of Sherlock filling him overwhelmed his thoughts. "Sherlock..." John whimpered.

Sherlock stroked John's hair lovingly. "Shh, you're doing so well." He encouraged, pulling in and out very slowly, hitting John's prostate. "Does it feel good when I do that? You're doing so well, you're so beautiful." He kissed between his shoulder blades gently.

John gasped and his whole body was shaking. "O-h G-god yes, yes." John stuttered and moaned. "Don't... s-stop."

Sherlock grunted pushing in a little more. "F-fuck I won't, I won't." He moved his hand to John's front stroking his prick. "God you're doing so well, you're so beautiful. I love you."

"I lo-love you t-too." John could feel the pain lessening slowly to a dull thum, and pleasure took over. He felt like his head was going to erupt, and everything was spinning. His breath stuck hard in his chest, letting little escape his lips. "Oh God...Sherlock...Oh God... Fuck... Fuck... Ah.. "

Sherlock increased the pace of his stokes. "Let go, it's okay let go." He encouraged softly, enjoying the sensation of being able to fuck him slowly, he always had a preference for slow. "Cum for me."

With a shout, John let go. He gave himself entirely over to every sensation. Every thrust. His orgasm rocked him so deeply that he almost fell over, and was only stopped by the fact that Sherlock was holding him up.

Sherlock kissed his shoulder blades pulling out of him not having cum, more admiring John. "So beautiful, let me clean you up." He mumbled, licking the cum off John's cock.

John felt tired and weak. He was hurting, but it was a good hurt. Sherlock was overwhelming him, and it was amazing. "You don't have to do that." John said, shaking. "But, God you are good at it."

Sherlock raised his eyebrow. "I've had a lot of practice." He mumbled over John's cock "I liked making you happy, you're so beautiful."

"You make me so happy, god so very very happy." John called out. He could feel himself getting hard again in Sherlock's mouth.

"I like doing this." He mumbled, licking John's slowly growing hard on like it was a lolly to suck on. "You've no idea how much I like it." he looked a little wickedly up at him. "No gag reflex."

John was suddenly very aroused. "You are very, very sexy." John gasped out. "And beautiful. And talented."

Sherlock bit his lip. _Oh, so he liked it when I speak a little dirty._ Sherlock kissed the side of John's thighs. "I could get off on just sucking somebody's cock." He paused turning the water off. It had gone cold.

"Really?" John swallowed hard. "That's uh, that's just...wow." John bent down to Sherlock's level and kissed him softly. "I love these lips. They are amazing." John said, running his tongue across Sherlock's lips. "Do, uh, do you want to show me how you get off like that?" John asked, trying not to sound like it was something he needed.

Sherlock locked eyes with him lustfully. "Yes." He bit out in a raw voice. He pushed his mouth over John's cock, deep throating the man in one smooth motion, licking and sucking needily, moaning around him.

"Oh, oh God!" John gasped. He closed his eyes, and let his head fall backwards. "Oh fuck Sherlock." He moaned. He put his fingers in Sherlock's hair, clamping around the curls.

Sherlock whimpered in arousal, his cock already throbbing from not having cum when he was fucking John. He gripped John's side, his tongue almost sinfully dancing around the slit of John's prick, choking on the other man's length, letting it violate the back of his throat. He shivered in pleasure.

John couldn't make any eligible words form in his mind or flow from his tongue. Just whimpering noises, moans and groans. His whole body felt sore and ached, but he couldn't even feel it. Just mind boggling waves of pure sinful delight.

Sherlock rutted a little against John's leg and the shower floor, his cock leaking pre-cum, his jaw attentively licking up every part of John's groin area, lapping a little at his balls before drawing his mouth over again and again sucking hard and punishing his own mouth with John's cock.

John's eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and his body surged and tightened. He shook violently as he was thrust into another orgasm by Sherlock. He felt entirely limp, sore, weak, and tired, but he had never felt so good.

Sherlock felt John's cum pour straight down the back of his throat, the last aggressive thrust sent him over the edge as he clutched John still sucking and swallowing not standing until every bit of him was clean. "Probably don't ask where I learned that" He panted a little, holding himself against the shower.

"I am a bit curious, but okay." John said panting with a smile. "Sherlock, I am really very tired. Can we go lie down on the bed?" John asked, trying to find the strength to stand up.

Sherlock grimaced. "Ask if you want just don't...pull a judgment face" He drawled, turning the water on again and panting for some air. He pulled John into a warm kiss before turning the water off after rinsing and handing John a towel. He took the man back to bed kissing him as he went and leaning into him under the covers. "Sorry sorry too...too needy." He mumbled pushing some distance away as he moved over embarrassed.

"No, you get back here." John said, grabbing Sherlock, and pulled him back. He tenderly kissed his forehead, and held him tightly. "So, where did you learn that?" John asked curiously.

Sherlock dropped his gaze. "I didn't always have money for coke and my dealer, he and I were somewhat involved. He was a prick if I'm honest."

John ran a hand through Sherlock's hair, and then lifted up his chin. "He sounds like a dick." John said, and then he kissed Sherlock tenderly.

"He was- he was quite...cruel." Sherlock smacked his lips together. "But you know, I also exchanged blow jobs for drugs so neither of us was perfect."

"It is hard for me to imagine you like that." John said, nuzzling into Sherlock's neck. "Using drugs. I am glad you cleaned up. I would hate to lose you to something as stupid as a drug overdose or something."

"Hard for you to imagine because you never saw it. I'm glad you never saw. Lestrade he...he worries; I can see it sometimes he looks at me like he's afraid he's going to find me overdosed again. I'm glad you don't look at me like that."

"Yeah." John said. He didn't want Sherlock dwelling on it, so he changed the subject. "By the way, you were amazing. Also, thank you for being...careful with me." John blushed a little.

Sherlock kissed John's shoulders gently. "It's alright, I know what it's like when people aren't careful. I prefer it that way...gentle I mean. And you were so beautiful."

"Good to know." John said with a light smile. He sighed contently as he snuggled closer to Sherlock. "I love you." He breathed. "And please, just say 'I love you too'."

Sherlock looked at John miserably. "I love you too." He whispered, bringing him tight letting himself pretend this was how things always were. "You're so beautiful John."

"And you are ridiculously sexy." John said. He felt happy, warm, and content. The pain was numbing all the time, and he felt fully at peace.

"Would that be when I'm swallowing your cum or sucking you off?" Sherlock drawled into John's ear. "Oh no, you meant when I talk dirty. You should have told me you liked it, I wouldn't have had to deduce it otherwise."

"All of the above, and every time else. You are always sexy. I didn't know I liked it until I heard you do it." John confessed, slightly embarrassed.

Sherlock stroked John's hair. "It's okay." He assured. "it's okay." He kissed his head softly. "Let's just stay like this. We could do something in the morn-" Sherlock froze "Sorry forgot this wasn't a...proper thing."

"I've got more time this time, so let's. Let's do something in the morning." John said sleepily. He kissed Sherlock's cheek, snuggled in tighter, and then let the hand of sleep carry him away.


	10. The Morning After

John's Dream

* * *

"This is what people do right? Leave a note. Well, this is my note."

Sherlock was standing on the edge of the roof of Saint Bart's, cell phone held fast in his gloved hand. John could do nothing but watch from below as his friend poised himself to fall.

"No, Sherlock, don't!" John cried out desperately. "Please Sherlock, don't jump. I love you." Tears streamed fast and hot down his face.

"Goodbye John." Sherlock whispered into the receiver before closing his phone, and throwing it to the side. John hung up his phone, shoving down hard into his pocket. He watched as Sherlock fell.

"Sherlock!" John cried out despairingly as he ran for the building. A bicyclist crashed into him, throwing him against the ground. It took a few moments for John to stand back up, but as soon has he was mobile, he was running to Sherlock. As he approach where Sherlock landed, he saw a group of people standing around him.

"He's my friend, please, he's my friend!" John cried out as he pushed his way through the crowd. Sherlock's limp bloody form lay broken on the side walk. John bent down to check his pulse, but he could feel nothing. Moments later, people were moving Sherlock's body onto a gurney, and away from John. John tried to get to him, but he was pushed away, left with nothing but a blood stain on the cement. He curled into himself, sobbing. Through all his pain and grief, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and a voice calling to him.

"John" The voice said lovingly. "John, please. John."

He looked up, tears blearing his vision. Sherlock was standing behind him; hand placed gently on his shoulder.

"Sh-Sherlock?" John choked out through the tears. He jumped to his feet and hugged the detective tightly.

"I- I thought you had…" John sobbed into Sherlock's chest.

"It was all a magic trick." Sherlock whispered gently into John's ear. "I would never leave you."

John pulled his face from Sherlock's chest, and looked up. Sherlock was grinning like a fox.

"You bastard." John said with a laugh, as he pulled Sherlock down into a kiss. The second their lips touched, time stopped, and John was pulled into a world where only Sherlock and he were real.

"I love you." John wept against Sherlock's lips, refusing to pull away.

"I love you too John." Sherlock said softly.

Sherlock's Dream

* * *

John was sitting on the couch in the lounge, completely without clothing. He was leaning back; legs open, stroking his sides suggestively.

"Sherlock." John purred sensually "Come to me Sherlock, I need you. I love you."

Sherlock felt like he was on fire, his arousal almost unbearable. He looked down, realizing that he was no longer wearing clothing, he bit his lip.

"Mmmm… You are so beautiful Sherlock." John reached down his body slowly, grabbed his cock, and starting tugging it slowly.

"Ohhh…" John moaned as he arched his back up. "Come over here and help me with this." Sherlock could no longer wait. He ran to the couch, jumping on John, he took his mouth feverishly. John removed his hand from his own cock, reaching up to touch Sherlock's. He bucked, and rubbed himself against the man who lay atop him.

"Please Sherlock, I need you. I need you inside of me." John moaned as he moved his face to Sherlock's neck. Kissing, licking, sucking, and biting. Desperate. Sherlock growled with longing as John opened up to him. Placing John's legs around his waist, Sherlock dived into John, pushing and pulling slowly. John's face was flushed as he cried out with pleasure, grabbing Sherlock's waist and pushing him in deeper. Sherlock tucked his face into the curve of John's neck, panting and moaning. In the far distance he heard what sounded like a door opening, but it was hard to tell of his and John's sounds of pleasure.

"John!" He heard a woman cry out from what sounded like a hundred miles away. He froze, blood running cold, heart coming to a complete stop.

"M-Mary." Sherlock chocked out. His throat closed up completely as he pulled himself out of John, and tried to find a sheet to cover up with.

"Mary, I can explain-" John started desperately, trying to find a way to stand up.

"I don't want to hear it." Mary growled, reaching for her back. She pulled out a gun, and pointed it at Sherlock. "How dare you try and steal my husband." She spit venomously. Before Sherlock could say a word, before John could do a thing, Mary pulled the trigger. A sharp pained filled Sherlock's chest as the bullet pierced his flesh. He fell back against the couch vision blurring and fading to black.

"And now to deal with you." He heard Mary say from far away. She pointed her gun at John, and fired into his skull. John slammed hard against the couch, eyes suddenly lifeless and cold.

"John!" Sherlock could hear himself calling as everything faded to black. A chilling laugh in the dark, the laugh of a man.

"I told you, you couldn't be loved." The voice of Victor chuckled in the dark. "You will lose him."

* * *

Sherlock jolted awake around mid-morning, his heart racing like a quick paced drum beat. He smelt John's soap next to him, comforted to still have him there. His mind cleared as he pushed far away the images of his dream. He calmed his breathe, and steadied his heart. He turned to face John, feeling a smile creep onto his face, his dream long forgotten.

"This is nice, it's like we're a proper couple." Sherlock stiffened, blushing in embarrassment. "Sorry."

John was still too tired to open his eyes, but he reached out to feel Sherlock next to him. "No, it's fine." He mumbled sleepily. "I like it."

Sherlock paused for a few moments. "Am I your boyfriend?" he uttered. _No, you're his lover, the other half of his affair, you're a lie and an excuse don't romanticize what you two are__doing_.

"Right now you are. Even if it only for a little while." John mumbled. "Is that okay for you, or would you rather not think of it that way?" John asked. He had found himself thinking about nothing but Sherlock. Every moment he spent with Sherlock was another moment where he felt really satisfied.

Sherlock grimaced. "I don't know."

"Sorry, never mind, don't worry about." John said. The last thing he wanted to do was make Sherlock upset with him so early in the day.

Sherlock sighed rolling over "It's just, I can't be and I'm not really I just don't know what I am to you anymore, are we even friends still?"

"Yes, you are my best friend. That won't change." John said, wishing he would not have said anything. _To be fair, you are not the one who brought it up_.

Sherlock let out a small breath of relief. "Good, good that's...I couldn't bear it if."

"You can't get rid of me. You should know that by now." John said with a small smile.

"If Mary figures it out before you stop this, then you know you need to end it right?"

"Yes, but can we not think about stuff like that? I just want to spend a nice day with you." John said pleadingly.

"Fine." Sherlock sighed. "Just so you know, it's wonderful you don't think about it since you get to go back to a home with somebody else who loves you." he muttered. "Just...just come here." he pulled John in, grumpily kissing him. "What do you want to do today?"

John shrugged. "Not sure. Any ideas?" John asked, kissing Sherlock softly.

"We could go out?" Sherlock's face fell. "No um...I won't be able to...I meant out as a couple but we can't stupid idea, stupid stupid."

"It's not stupid. I would like to go out. Go to lunch with you maybe. We could go to so small place where it would be unlikely to run into anyone we know." John said thoughtfully. "Sherlock, what would it be like if it really was just the two of us? If we were actually a couple?"

Sherlock locked eyes with John. "Don't you dare ask me that again."

"Sorry... I was just wondering..." John said forlornly.

"You're married." Sherlock said flatly.

"I don't need a lecture, it is just something I have been thinking about a lot lately. I guess my curiosity just got out of hand. Sorry." John said sadly.

"I used to pretend we were, when we'd be sitting around the flat doing things." Sherlock commented after a small amount of time.

"Yeah?" John perked up a little "What else?" He didn't want to push it, but he had to know.

"I have a room in my mind palace where I lock away all...that domestic fantasy. Where I'd split off reality and add me being able to hold you in public around what was happening."

"Hmm... sounds nice." John said, interested. "I had just been wondering lately. Every time I am away from you, I can only think about and us, and you..." John trailed off into his thoughts.

"And you remember you have a wife." Sherlock cut through sighing. "Don't toy with leaving her out of guilt from seeing me in pieces, you won't and it'll make me worse."

"I am doing nothing like that. I am not going to tease you, or play with your heart. I am not like that." John said defensively.

"Aren't you?" Sherlock whispered.

"Not trying to." John mumbled. "But I get why you might think that."

"We could go a few towns over?" Sherlock offered seeing John slip into sadness when confronted with the truth. "Nobody would know us at all, we could hold each other."

John cheered up a bit. "That sounds great." He said with a half-smile

Sherlock sucked in his breath a little. "I'm not...one for public affection." He began slowly, "But, you like so let's go a little out into the country, We could have lunch and you could maybe, not correct the people that assume we're a couple?"

"I won't expect you to be overly affectionate, and I won't correct people who assume we are a couple. Got it." John said, nodding his head.

Sherlock licked his lips. "I want to be affectionate with you; just...bad experience put me off it in public. People shouting things and so on."

"It is okay, really. I get it. You are plenty affectionate to me when we're here." John said, planting a small kiss on Sherlock's forehead.

"But Mary holds you in public and kisses you, I want to be able to give you that too." He mumbled. "I just want to experience people jeering."

"If you want to, then just ignore it. Some people are ridiculous. If you don't want to, don't worry about. The one thing I would want to do, is hold your hand. Is that okay?" John asked.

Sherlock sighed slipping his hand into John's. "It's not something easily ignored, I doubt you've been on the receiving end of 'faggot' or other...words, when you kissed somebody you were dating on the cheek because you were happy to see them." His mouth went dry. "I don't want you to have that experience."

"No I haven't." John said, happy to feel Sherlock's hand in his.

Sherlock shrugged. "You get used to it." He mumbled, kissing his neck gently he sighed, eyes raking over John's body. "You're so beautiful." He repeated over and over, his hands gently skating John's side.

"I'm really not, but thank you." John said with a sigh. "I think you are beautiful though."

Sherlock snorted. "No." He corrected. "No, shut up, you are, and I'll repeat it until you get sick of it and believe it." He kissed every inch of John's torso gently, like surgery. "You're beautiful." He punctured each kiss with the words.

"You really are one of a kind." John muttered. "And very stubborn." He pulled Sherlock's face to his, kissing up his neck until he reached his mouth.

"Doing this in public it, unnerves me. But, it's...I tend to cling to the idea of being able to feel things around one person, sorry...sorry I'll stop it's annoying it gets annoying." Sherlock curled a little in on himself. "It's what everyone says."

"You are not annoying, well, not in this situation. Please stop worrying that you are being too needy or loving." John said reassuringly. "Because you can't be."

Sherlock gulped uncertainly pulling John in tightly. "It's nice...being with you I feel like I matter."

"You do matter." John said lovingly. "You matter so much to me, but not just me you know. You matter too many."

Sherlock scoffed. "Right, sure." He drawled "I'm going to have a shower, we'll leave soon." he Dismissed.

"Right, okay. I'm just going to sleep a little more." John said. He kissed Sherlock gently, and then pulled the blankets tight around him, closing his eyes.

Sherlock waved him off lazily, walking to the bathroom, turning on the water and letting it drip on him for a while before returning wet, his curls sopping as he changed.

John heard the door open, and he opened his eyes. "Sherlock?" He asked, slowly sitting up.

"Mhmm?" Sherlock mused pulling on a shirt, he dried his hair and tried to swat away the feeling in his chest. _It's exactly like you imagined though, SHUT UP, but it is. Him waiting for you in bed as you get ready to leave, but we're not a couple. Oh yes that snag._

John sat up and looked around until he found the clothes he had been wearing yesterday that Sherlock had removed and folded. He pulled the clothing to him, and started getting dressed. "How's the neck?" John asked as he slipped a jumper over his head.

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. "It hurts..." He mumbled "Quite a lot."

"Can I take a look?" John asked as he finished getting dressed. "I need to make sure that it won't get infected or something."

Sherlock pulled the bandage off nodding he sat on the bed. "How does it look?"

John looked over the wound. It was a bit red around a few of the punctures, but otherwise, it looked fine. "Just fine." John said. "Just make sure to change it tonight before bed."

Sherlock slumped. _Bed tonight alone without him, as usual_. "Okay" He whispered "Let's go, let's...just go. I can't keep you all day."

"Alright." John said, standing up and stretching. "You ready?" He asked with a small smile. He was quite excited about spending the day with Sherlock.

"As ever." Sherlock said dully.


	11. The Cab Ride

Sherlock walked John down the stairs. It was agony to not touch his hand in the cab until they were clear of London. Wordless, he laced their fingers together.

"What do you tell Mary? For your excuses?"

John looked down. He didn't like thinking about Mary when he was with Sherlock. "Well," He said slowly. "I uh, I say that we are working cases and sometimes there will be lots of research that takes all night. I figured it is believable. We did stay up many nights working cases in the past."

"And for the lunch today, another case?" Sherlock's voice trembled. "Okay." He replied "Okay, okay fine just..." He sighed "Just make sure you're kind when you're with her."

"I am." John said flatly. "You seem upset with me, is there something you would rather me say for an excuse?"

"It's the perfect logical excuse why would I be upset." Sherlock shrugged "You love her, don't you?" John froze a minute. Even a week ago he would have said yes without thinking. He knew that Sherlock was reading him, and that made him feel even worse. Things had changed quite a bit in John's mind. Since being with Sherlock, he has felt happier, more at peace, and his nightmares have stopped. Even when home with Mary, all he can thing about are the days he and Sherlock spend together.

"Y-yes." He said finally. He swallowed hard hoping beyond hoping that Sherlock wouldn't read into it. Sherlock snatched his hand away, eyeing John carefully.

"We're going to Mary's and you're going to apologize to her and fix this."

"No." John said plainly.

"You love her." He repeated firmly. "Yes you do. Don't try and convince yourself you don't because you like the escape more than reality. You're supposed to, that's why it's the escape, but you can't stay there. You can't just pick something else because you found out reality is hard."

"One, it is my life and I will do as I see fit. Two, I am not leaving her so calm down." John said, voice taking a slightly angry tone. "One day, just one day with you, out in the world, being like a couple is all I wanted, but no. You had to bring up something you knew would either lead to a fight, or one of us getting very upset."

"We're not a couple." Sherlock snapped "We're a lonely broken detective and a married man seeking some escapism by indulging in memories."

"Don't profile me." John spat. "You are the one who started all this."

"It's not profiling if it's written plainly on your face, honestly you haven't even lied to Mary as much as you have lied to yourself." He glared "You're the one who acts like I mean the world to you, then leaves, who wants to act like a couple, then will leave at the end of the day, who asked me to speak at his wedding, a wedding which physically pained me to see, it was like having my chest ripped out, and then shags me in the shower." Sherlock's voice cracked. "Just because you can reduce me to a memory, doesn't mean you have to try and make me reduce you to one. That's what's been bothering me!"

"You think I want to leave?" John asked harshly. "I hate it. You are so much more than a memory to me, but you are too thick to see that. I think you just can't accept the fact that someone can love you for you. Not for memories or ideas."

"Well why would they, you can't! I'm not allowed to 'read you' and shove the truth in your face because it breaks the little bubble you build yourself in when you see me, and you don't care what happens to me in that bubble once you leave. You say don't wait but you want everything to be exactly the same as when you left!" His voice was reaching hysterical now. "And I'll never have you properly, I didn't move from that bed for weeks because I was waiting for you." He choked. "You've ruined me. You've smashed up my whole life."

"I go home every day and I have trouble looking my wife in the eyes. You made it to damn easy! I came, just to check on you. Try and help you. Then you go on about how you LOVE me?! What were you even thinking? Now, I am living this double life, torn between my wife and you, and you are stupid if you think that I don't love you for you. I am not in love with some daft memory or escape that I don't even need! The only reason I come to you is because I love you. I don't need escape Sherlock! I need you, and you are too thick to get that. So yes, I might have ruined you and smashed your life to small pieces, but you did the same damn thing to me!" John shouted out. His face was bright red with anger, and he was trembling violently.

"I was fine I didn't need you to check on me! I never asked you too! I was doing just fine I was okay I was fine!"

"If you were fine, Lestrade never would have asked me to come help you. I was just trying to help you!" John hissed.

"I didn't need help." He snarled back "He was over reacting and so were you. I was just sitting on the floor of the flat." _And you were sobbing, SHUT UP_

"Sobbing. You were sitting there sobbing hysterically with voices shouting in your head. Yeah, you were just fine!" John said sarcastically.

Sherlock's lip curled. "If I could get them to stop I would! You act as though I'm not allowed to be able to cry, for god sake I've seen you do it. I'm so happy your nightmares have stopped again, really it's wonderful one of us is benefiting from this."

"Have you not gained anything from this? Has this really ONLY made your life worse?" John asked seriously.

Sherlock turned his head away refusing to answer the question. "I shouldn't have told you I loved you in the first place, it wasn't fair to do that to you."

"No you really shouldn't have." John agreed. "But you did, and now it is too late. Answer my damn question now, Sherlock."

"I needed to tell you, it was painful to not I...everything I was doing to suppress telling you wasn't working anymore." His mouth felt dry. "I shouldn't have I just...I never even told Victor he looked nice. I was worried you'd go forever before I told you." His hands were shaking by this point. "John, we're going to the country so we can have a day as a couple, that alone kills me because we'll never be a couple, but you haven't even...you didn't think to take off your ring for today, and then you're going to go back to her and I'll just wait again."

"This just isn't right or fair." John said sadly. His whole body felt hallow and he felt so sorrowful he was having trouble speaking. "This... this..." John choked out. He couldn't force himself to finish his sentence.

"You didn't take your ring off John, don't try and tell me you don't love her. You're just enjoying the freedom you have with me."

"That's not true. I didn't take the ring off because you had asked me not to so that you don't get carried away with your fantasy." John said defensively.

"I asked you not to when we were having sex so I can get a glimpse of it during and remind myself to not get too invested or carried away."

"You didn't say to me 'just during sex'. You just said to not take it off."

"Couldn't bring myself to ask you of that, thought you'd find it too cruel. I didn't realize how much it was bothering me till today. Every time you said couple I looked at it. My fault, I should have said, but I'm still right."

John grabbed his ring, tugged it off of his finger, and shoved it into his coat pocket. "There."

Sherlock stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded, before regaining his speech.

"You haven't fallen out of love with her, you've just started to relax properly in to this...thing, this coping mechanism that you have. That's what we are." Sherlock sucked in his breath. "You didn't say it the first time I said I love you John, it took a few tries before you did, it was an accident when you said it and you weren't sure what you meant when you said it and that's okay. I'm not going to be responsible for ruining your life anymore.

"We-this-" John took a deep shuddering breath. "I love you more than you will ever be able to accept, but... I don't think we can continue like this." John choked out. "Our lives are falling apart, and while I-" John gulped painfully. "While I would even be... willing to leave Mary for you, you wouldn't accept that. You have gotten one idea in your head that you cannot let go of..." John turned to look out the window. "I can't keep hurting you."

"When I said, at the start, when I told you to not pretend you'd leave her and that you'd forget all the discontent you felt when you saw your child, you said I was right." Sherlock whispered. "I'm just trying to hold you to what you said before all of this messed with your head, so I'm not responsible for your misery if you make a choice without thinking."

"Whatever Sherlock..." John leaned against the door, feeling too dejected to fight anymore.

"Oh don't do that, I'm trying to not do to you what I did to Victor."

"I am doing to you what you did to victor..." John mumbled. "Playing your emotions for no good reason."

Sherlock said nothing in response; the thought had crossed his mind a few times. "Well maybe it's what I deserve."

"No, it's not. No one deserves it." John said, words coming out monotone.

"You said you had no good reason..." Sherlock frowned. "Do you have a reason?"

"The reason is because I love you. That is not a good reason, but a very selfish one." John stated.

"And you're doing this to Mary because you love her and I'm doing this to you because I love you." Sherlock completed for him. "We're both awful."

"Absolutely terribly." John agreed.

"Did you mean it when you said I wasn't allowed to just wait in between for you?"

"Yes, of course I did. I am not some kind of sicko that wants to force you to wait for me." John grumbled.

"And you said if I found somebody I should..."

"Go for it. You should go for it and try to let me go." Uttering those words pained John to no end.

Sherlock scoffed. "You don't want that." His tone faded a little. "I don't. I had you and I spent half my energy pushing you away because I didn't think you could love me."

"Well I can, and I do, and I wish you would stop fighting me on it." John said, annoyed.

"If I could I would, I can't stop fighting myself on the notion I'm capable of being love."

"If it would be the best thing for you, then it is what I want. I just want you to be okay." John said pitifully.

Sherlock mumbled. "It probably is, but you don't think I'd be able to find someone surely."

John shrugged. "You are an acquired taste, but I love you so someone else out there will. You are smart, brave, sexy, beautiful, loving when you want to be. I am sure someone other than me can see all that..." John droned on.

Sherlock shook his head grimly. "You would have resented me if you left her. You know that right?"

"I know no such thing." John said, voice empty.

"John shut up, you would have and I would have felt guilty and mad at you."

"If you say so…" John sighed.

"John, are you planning on leaving her?" Sherlock asked timidly.

"I don't know. If you are very happy with one person, and that person has helped you in more ways than they can imagine, and you care about another person, but they just don't make you feel complete, but the other person does... It's all very complicated." John said emptily.

"Try." Sherlock encouraged, kissing John's cheek.

John felt a small amount of warmth fill him. "It hurts me every time I leave you, more than anything else. I love you so so much, but you won't let me say it without correcting me with a correction that isn't even true, and it kills me. When I am there with Mary, I only want to be with you, and when I am with you, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." John talked quickly, not sure if Sherlock was understanding what he was saying.

"But would be able to- to leave her." Sherlock pressed with a heavy voice. "Would be able to do it or would you remember all the reasons you loved her the moment you tried?"

"That-that is what I have been thinking about for the last several days. I wanted to ask someone for advice, but the person who I normally ask is you, so I didn't know. That is why I asked you what it would be like if we were a proper couple." John said sadly.

Sherlock sighed. "It would be exactly like what you have with Mary now, only her quirks are replaced with my quirks. Couple being a couple it's the same thing for everybody it's the people who change. It just depends if you want to be a couple under such circumstances"

"Do you get how much I care about you yet?" John asked, finally turning to face Sherlock.

Sherlock's face fell. "I...I..."

"Do you understand what I am very much considering doing for you? Would some who didn't actually love you but love 'the memory/idea of you' want to do this to be with you?" John pushed.

"She's pregnant John. I'd never...never want children."

"You would be a god awful father." John stated plainly. "But again, you are avoiding the point."

"And you'd be a good one." Sherlock countered. "Short tempered but...caring. I understand what you're considering. I'm trying to let you know exactly what it is you are."

"All I really want right now is for you to understand that I love you for you and no other reason. I still have a bit more thinking to do when it comes to this whole situation." John mumbled.

Sherlock took a small breath. "I don't know how you could love me. How anyone could."

John gave in, and he laid his head down on Sherlock's shoulder. "Well I do, so very much. How can I convince you of this?" John asked desperately.

"I've been reliably told I am unlovable." Sherlock groaned.

"I am proof against that." John pressed. "How can I prove it to you?"

"John this isn't your problem, I believe you, I just can't stop mocking myself for the idea of somebody loving me." Sherlock mumbled.

"That makes me very upset." John whispered. "Just know that I love you. I really do."

"I don't want to make you sad." Sherlock moaned burying his head. "Useless, I'm so useless"

John grabbed Sherlock's head. "Stop, stop, stop." John said repeatedly, kissing the top of Sherlock's head. "You are not useless."

"Nobody loves me." He whispered helplessly. "Stop it. Stop lying."

"I am not lying, please believe me. Please...please... I love you, I love you so much... so much..." John whimpered into Sherlock's hair.

"No, stop it! Shut up!" Sherlock froze "No," He mumbled, holding John. "No, no I wasn't talking to you. No I was...voices not you."

John sighed, holding Sherlock tightly. "I am here, right here. Whatever the voices are saying, they are lying. I love you. I am here for you."

"Everybody who's ever said that said it to get something." Sherlock said pathetically.

"I don't want anything but you. Nothing from you, just you. It is okay... you are okay..." John said comfortingly.

Sherlock shook his head into John's arms. "No the last person who said that, they..."

"I am me, Sherlock. Not some other bloke." John said pleadingly. "I do love you, and I don't want a thing from you. Please... please..."

"John this is what I'm like now, since those two years, since coming back. I don't have control like I used to. I can't sleep, I can't think, I'm not me anymore."

"I am going to be here to help you. To help you get control back." John whispered, petting Sherlock. "And if I can't, and if you stay a bit broken, I will be here to hold you when it gets bad."

"You need some space to think about what you want though, that's only fair."

"Not yet, not until you are doing better." John said lovingly. "Just relax, I have you."

Sherlock wrinkled his nose, nodding slowly as the cab pulled outside. He palmed the cabbie some notes getting out slowly, looking at John uncertainly and making no move to hold or kiss him.


	12. John and Sherlock's Day Off

**Author's Note: (So, I hope you guys are enjoying this. Writing this has actually been kind of difficult for me. Chapters will be coming out slower at hopefully 2 times a week. Sorry :/ This chapter is unusually light because the next will be unusually dark. Thank you all, you're wonderful!) **

* * *

"That was an interesting cab ride." John said, walking along side Sherlock. He wanted to hold his hand, but he was going to wait a bit to see.

"No..." He began in a warning tone. "Just...never mind"

"What?" John asked, a bit confused.

"Not you." He sighed, mentally exhausted. "I wasn't talking to you. Let's...let's have lunch. Look outside in the back, it has a garden you like...gardens." He offered awkwardly.

"Yeah, okay. Sounds good." John said, looking at Sherlock sadly. He was very worried about the detective.

"John don't...I was coping before you knew, I'll be fine." Sherlock cleared his throat as they were seated outside.

"I am allowed to worry about you." John said. He looked around the outside area. It was strangely calm and peaceful. A nice change.

"And I'm allowed to tell you it's a stupid idea." He countered.

"Fair enough." John shrugged.

Sherlock took small breaths, surveying the area nervously.

"Try and relax, I will do the same." John said reassuringly with a small, strained smile.

Sherlock huffed. "Relax." He rolled his eyes, and then looked over at John. He could tell that John was really trying, but he saw a deep sadness in his eyes.

The waiter came by and Sherlock flinched, momentarily caught off guard. After taking John's order; ("Not Hungry." Sherlock snapped) He walked quickly away, leaving John and Sherlock alone in the garden.

John looked around. "It's lovely here. Very quiet."

Sherlock stared at John, trying to figure out a response that wouldn't come across as rude. "Very quiet." He finally said. Victor was still yelling in his head, and he was trying his best to ignore it. To be with John, even for a little while.

"Sherlock-" John started nervously. "Can we- Can we just pretend, just for a bit, that this is real?"

Sherlock's eyes darkened dangerously. "That is not a good idea, not for either of us."

"Yeah, I know…" John said, looking to his feet. "I just thought it would be… nice."

Sherlock laughed snidely. "Only for a moment. You seem to forget that the point of this is to detach from me, not cling harder." He saw John's eyes fall in the way they did every time he mentioned the truth of the situation. Sherlock sighed. "But, I suppose one day can't hurt." _Liar. One day acting as if it is real will destroy you once he leaves and you return to Baker Street. He isn't wearing his ring, you will have nothing to ground you, you will get caught up in the fantasy and it will kill you… SHUT UP! _Sherlock smiled, but it was pained.

"Really? You mean it?" John asked, face lighting up. He couldn't see the pain behind Sherlock's smile.

"Sure, if it will make you happy." Sherlock said, grabbing John's hand. _Put yourself through all the pain for him you wish, he won't leave her for you. He will never be yours._

John squeezed Sherlock's hand lovingly, a huge smile lighting up his entire being. Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment to compose himself, then opened. He could do this. He would do this.

The waiter came back, bringing John his lunch. Sherlock let go of his hand so he could eat.

"So, where do you want to go after this?" John asked, mouth full.

"I think I would quite like to go for a stroll. A park maybe, somewhere with not a lot of people." Sherlock said, staring at John. He could watch him forever and never get bored.

"That sounds great." John said with a smile. Even if it was for only a moment, he and Sherlock belonged to each other, and there was no reason to have fear.

John finished eat quickly, while Sherlock just sat and watched him. He took note of every muscle in John's face and how it moved with each action. He studied his eyes, seeing the way they lit up when Sherlock pet his hand, or gave it a gentle squeeze. Memorizing every little detail about the other man.

"I got it." Sherlock said when the bill came, and John reached for it. John was a bit surprised, but it gave him a warm feeling that he was not suspecting. Once John's meal was paid for, the two left the safety of the restaurant garden, and walked into the real world.

* * *

Sherlock walked slightly ahead, leading John to a pleasant place with trees and a little creek. A bench was placed next to the creek, and Sherlock grabbed John's hand, dragging him to sit.

"It's beautiful." John said, looking around and taking in his surroundings. He moved closer to Sherlock, and grabbed his hand. Sherlock looked around nervously, but there was no one around. The only sounds were those of the running water, and some birds that were flying by.

"I thought you'd like it." Sherlock said, putting his arm around John's shoulders. He didn't like being affectionate in public, but if there was no one around… He turned John's head so it was facing his, and kissed him lovingly. John was a bit surprised at first, Sherlock having been adamant about such behavior in public, but he was pleased none the less.

John reached around to the back of Sherlock's head, and pulled him in closer. Unlike the other times they had kissed, it was slow, passionate. There was no desperate need behind it. Simply kissing to feel one's lips on yours.

Minutes flew by as Sherlock and John melted into each other, becoming one being. Completely oblivious to the world around them.

Maybe it was 5 minutes, maybe it was 20, but Sherlock pulled away to look at John's face. John's cheeks were flushed, his lips were kiss bruised, and his eyes were still closed. When he opened them, his pupils were dilated.

"You are stunning." Sherlock breathed out, unable to take his eyes away from John's face.

"So are you." John said dreamily. He moved closer to Sherlock, laying his head down on his shoulder, and snuggling into his side. Sherlock put his arm back around John's shoulder, and held him closely.

They sat like that for a while, but Sherlock got a bit fidgety.

"Walk?" Sherlock asked, moving his hand along John's back slowly, being careful so not as to hurt his shoulder.

"Okay." John said, planting a sweet kiss on Sherlock's cheek and standing up. Sherlock looked up at John for a moment before standing. The sun was shining through the clouds behind him, lighting him up like an angel. His features were softened and relaxed, his entire demeanor taking on a lighter tone. Sherlock had to stop himself from gasping. John's hand was held out for Sherlock to take, and he grasped it tightly.

"What is it?" John asked with a smiling laugh as he noticed the way Sherlock was staring at him.

"It's just…" Sherlock was unsure of himself. He was terrified of being to clingy. _Weird. Before, I was cold and distant. But with John… _

"You are simply amazing." He finished after a few moments of being lost in thought.

John smiled brightly; bringing the detective closer to him. "You are perfect beyond belief."

Sherlock started to scoff, but he chocked it down. Today was John's day, and he wasn't going to ruin it. He had already done a lot of damage in the cab, he need not do more.

* * *

The two walked, hand-in-hand, down a small dirt path. A light breeze swayed the grass, and twirled Sherlock's hair. The path ran next to the stream, water splashing upon the dirt as it crashed into rocks and shoreline.

"I feel so relaxed." John said softly as he watched a drop of water land next to his shoe.

"The combination of the light breeze along with the sounds of running water create a sense of serenity that calms one's mind. The gentle nature of the surroundings causes a person to feel safe, which is why you feel relaxed. Also, we are out of the city. It is much quieter here then it is there, which helps in making one feel relaxed." Sherlock said with a tone of boredom. John just smirked in response and grabbed his hand tighter.

"It can never be, 'yes, it sure is relaxing' or something like that, with you, can it?" John laughed. "You're brilliant love, but you make everything sounds so technical."

Sherlock froze for a moment, and then smiled genuinely. "You just called me 'love'." He said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I guess I did." John said, shrugging it off like it was nothing. "You mind?"

"No." Sherlock said flatly. "I-I like it." John smiled. Sherlock smiled. All was well.

The day dragged on as the two walked and laughed, simply enjoying the other's company. Victor had faded to nothing but a soft whisper and Sherlock felt happy for the first time since he faked his death.

* * *

"We should probably go back to London soon." Sherlock said sadly, taking note of the time.

"Yeah, we should." John agreed, his happy exterior melting into that of a sad man.

Sherlock reluctantly hailed a cab, and he and John got inside. John held on to Sherlock's hand tightly and stared out the window as the cab left their paradise behind, and returned them to the painful reality. Once they got to London, John let go of Sherlock's hand. It killed him to do so, but it was a bit more risky to be so 'friendly' in a place where all their "friends" are. The whole ride was spent in silence, just one trying to cling to the other. Trying to stop life from tearing them apart again.

The cab pulled up to Baker Street, and this time John paid.

"Can you come in for a minute?" Sherlock asked in an almost sort of begging tone. John looked down at his watch.

"Only a minute." He said, walking to the door as he spoke.

Sherlock followed John in the door, up the stairs, and into the flat. Once inside he immediately grabbed John and pressed him against the wall. John yelped with surprise at the sudden action.

"I love you." Sherlock whispered as he pressed his body against John's, and kissed the man for all he was worth. John tried to reply, but Sherlock's lips were pressed to tightly to his. Sherlock ran his hands down the entirety of John's body, feeling ever muscle, every bone.

"I love you too." John was finally able to say, gasping for air. He ran a hand through Sherlock's hair, and held his gaze for a moment.

"I won't be gone for as long next time. I promise." John said seriously. Sherlock's stomach dropped violently as he realized that John was about to leave. _Back to his wife, remember? I told you you would get too caught up in your pathetic little fantasy. _

"Okay." Sherlock said sorrowfully.

John looked at Sherlock one more time, head to toe. He didn't look as bad as he did when they were in the cab the first time, but he doesn't look as good as he did when they were in the park.

"Goodbye love." John said, shooting Sherlock a quick sad smile before walking out the door. Sherlock walked over to the window, watching as John walked away.

"About time." A voice said from behind him. He froze, a sudden sickness rushing through him as he remembered the voice. He slowly turned around to see a man sitting in John's chair, smiling evilly. The man gestured for Sherlock to sit down in his leather chair.

"Time we had a little face to face." Victor said darkly.


	13. Victor

**Author's Note: (Yes, I know what I said about the delayed chapter postings, but the cliffhanger I left was too painful for ME to stand. Enjoy, and let me know what you think.) **

* * *

"You aren't real…" Sherlock said, stumbling backwards and slamming against the window. He clutched the sides of his head, digging his nails in, trying to let pain clear his mind. Victor just sat there and smiled.

"Course I'm not real, I'm dead." Victor said with a cold laugh. "But that does not mean I am not real to you. Now, Sit!" He hissed viciously. Sherlock, shaking violently, sat down in his chair. He tried to gain some sense of composer as Victor just stared at him with cold dead eyes.

"How are you here?" Sherlock asked, a slight tremble in his voice.

Victor laughed. "You've gone completely mad obviously. What did you think was going to happen? You forced me to be quiet all day while you ran around with _John_." He spit the word out with extreme distaste and anger. "I had to reach you somehow."

"Why? What is the point in it all?" Sherlock asked angrily.

"I guess-" Victor said slowly, petting the sides of John's chair. "To make you as miserable as you made me." He smirked.

Sherlock could feel his blood boil as he watched Victor sit in and touch John's chair.

"Get out of that chair, only he can sit there." Sherlock growled.

"Oh, this chair?" Victor said, pointing to it. "Yeah, I don't think so. I like it." He pulled out a knife, slicing a huge gash in the side.

Sherlock flew to his feet, grabbing Victor's wrists, and yanking the knife from his hands. He threw the knife across the room, and it stuck in the wall. Victor laughed as he pulled himself free of Sherlock's grip.

"What is it, huh? With me you were cold and awful. I couldn't even hold your hand!" He smacked Sherlock across the face, sending him crashing back into his chair. "But with _HIM-" _He snarled "You are all, 'oh I love you, let me hold you and kiss you and touch you.'!" He stood up, curling his fist. He was suddenly right next to Sherlock. He drew his arm back and punched Sherlock hard enough to knock him out of the chair and on to the floor. "Was I just not good enough for the brilliant detective!" He snarled.

Sherlock's face was burning and his head felt like it was going to explode. He could taste the blood in his mouth, as he slowly tried to pull himself into a sitting position. He wiped away a trickle of blood that swam steadily down his chin from his lip. Victor kicked him in the stomach, knocking all the air out of him, and sending him sputtering back to the floor.

"Please" Sherlock wheezed out, still trying to sit up. "I'm sorry."

Victor exhaled sharply. "That not good enough!" He yanked Sherlock up by his collar, throwing him against the couch. Sherlock hit hard, sprawled across the surface like a rag doll. Victor walked over to him slowly, pulling a needle out from his pocket.

"You know he doesn't actually love you, right? He is just using you like you used me. He has a wife, and a life that has no room in it for you. You are pathetic and weak! A shell of the man you once were. You are a waste! Why would anyone love you Sherlock? Why would anyone love someone like you? They wouldn't! No one will ever love you Sherlock. No one and especially not John!"

Sherlock tried to move; taking note of the needle in Victor's hand, but he body betrayed him. "John does love me." Sherlock said weakly. "He does, he says so."

"He is lying, obviously." Victor growled. He sat down on the couch, a hand gripped tight on Sherlock's shoulder, holding him down.

"Remember this?" Victor asked, showing Sherlock the needle that he cradled gently in his hand. He grabbed Sherlock's arm and shoved the needle deep inside.

"No!" Sherlock cried out, struggling against Victor, trying to get away from him.

Victor pushed down on the syringe, and Sherlock was helpless to watch as the drug entered his veins. "Want some more?" He asked, pulling out another needle.

"Stop!" Sherlock shouted. "Stop, stop, stop!" He thrashed out, trying to knock Victor off of him, but none of his punches or kicks stuck.

"You can't hurt me." Victor whispered harshly. "Not anymore." He stabbed the second needle into Sherlock, filling his body with more Meth.

Sherlock could feel his body slowing down drastically as he tried to fight against it. He vision began fading in and out, he limbs grew heavy, and soon he couldn't move at all.

"Please." Sherlock said, hearing his voice, but hearing it sound as if it was coming from another's body. "You are going to kill me."

"No Sherlock… You are going to kill yourself." He smiled widely as he stuck a third needle into Sherlock's arm, and disappeared. Sherlock looked down. His own hand was digging the needle into his arm, and Victor had never really been there. He tried to remove the needle, but it was to no avail as he slipped into unconsciousness.

"John…" He whispered before his eyes shut, and his head slumped.

* * *

Mrs. Hudson had just returned from a day's shopping, and she had some things that Sherlock had asked for her to pick up.

She walked up the stairs to his flat, opening the door slowly.

"Sherlock dear, I have your shopping." She said as she entered the room. She saw Sherlock lying on the couch, but thought nothing of it as she placed the bag on the kitchen table. She walked back over to the door, but this time her eyes caught hold of something. She walked over to Sherlock, and saw the needle in his arm.

"Sherlock!" She cried out, trying to wake him. She shook him, but he remained in an unconscious state.

"Oh dear." She cried out, hurrying to get to a phone. She punched in John's number quickly, panicking until he answered the phone.

"Hello?" Came John's voice on the other end of the line.

"Oh thank goodness!" Mrs. Hudson cried out in a panic. "John, its Sherlock. He did something, I am not sure what, but he has a needle in his arm and he his unconscious."

"Fuck!" John shouted out with anger and fear. "Sorry, I will be right there."

Before Mrs. Hudson could say another word, the phone had disconnected.

She stood by Sherlock's side until John got there about ten minutes later in a full panic. He ran to Sherlock's side, and she took a step back to let him through.

"Go back to your flat, I've got this." John said coldly.

"but-"

"No, I said go. Now." John's voice was very detached and frightening. Mrs. Hudson left without another word, leaving John and Sherlock alone. John sat on the couch, moving Sherlock's head so that it was placed on his lap. He checked his pulse, slowed, but steady.

"Why would you do this Sherlock?" John asked, petting Sherlock's hair. He held him close, petting him until finally Sherlock opened his eyes.

"John?" He asked, still completely out of it.

John was a bit startled by Sherlock's voice, sudden and unexpected.

"What happened?" John asked coldly. "Why did you do this?"

"Victor…" Was all Sherlock was able to manage before he was out again. John was furious now, and he could feel the rage bubbling up from deep inside his core. He grabbed the unconscious Sherlock and dragged him up. He draped his limp arm around his shoulder, and scooped up his legs so he was carrying him.

"Surprisingly light." John said to himself as he carried Sherlock down the stairs, and out of the flat. He waved down a cab, placing Sherlock down in it gently before taking a seat next to him.

"Saint Bart's" John said, moving Sherlock so that he was leaning against John's side.

* * *

When Sherlock woke up, he woke to a bright light and several people talking.

"It was indeed Meth." He heard Molly say, tracking the sounds of her footsteps as she walked across the room.

"Bloody idiot." He heard Lestrade's voice call out.

Sherlock opened his eyes fully, and sat up. He was in the lab at Saint Bart's. Molly, Lestrade, and John were all standing around him, looking down.

"How dare you!" Molly cried out, slapping Sherlock across the face. "Do you just not care about the people you hurt when you do stupid things like this?" Everyone stood there, shocked. They had never seen Molly so mad before.

"It hardly matters." Sherlock said, feeling the sting of Molly's slap help bring him to sobriety.

John stared at him coldly, and he felt his heart sink. He hardly cared what the other's thought, but he never wanted to hurt John.

"Leave us." John said demandingly to Molly and Lestrade. The sharp edge in his tone convinced the two to leave without so much as a quandary.

"Just tell me why, why you did this?" John asked, trying to keep the fear, anger, and sorrow out of his voice.

Sherlock took a deep breath, knowing what he was saying was crazy. "After you left, Victor showed up, but not just as a voice in my head. I saw him there, as if he was real. He-he yelled at me. Said that you didn't love me. Said you were just using me like I used him. Then he…" Sherlock closed his eyes, inhaling shakily. "He grabbed the needles, and he just started… Well, you know." Sherlock's eyes dropped to the ground.

John just stood there, unsure of what to say or do. He was terrified for Sherlock, and he was having trouble not showing it.

"Where did you even get the Meth?" John asked after several minutes of intense silence.

"I have been keeping a stash near the fire place since returning." Sherlock admitted painfully. "Just in case."

"Do you have anymore?" John asked, grinding his teeth down, trying to not shout.

"No, he- I mean I, used all of it."

John took a deep breath, rubbing the sides of his head. Everything was so complicated, and John could feel it all crashing down on him.

"Let's just- Let's get you home." John said finally, grabbing Sherlock and dragging him to his feet. With John's help, Sherlock was able to get out of the hospital and down to a cab. John sat next to him, fear clenching his stomach violently.

"John I-" Sherlock started, but he didn't know how to finish.

"Not right now Sherlock, just not now." He said, staring out the window, trying to figure out what to do about the detective.

Pulling up to the flat, John helped Sherlock out of the cab and back inside the house. He helped sit down on the couch, and then began looking around the flat, moving things, opening containers. Searching.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked, almost angrily for he knew exactly what John was doing.

"I am checking to see if you have any more." John said, not stopping what he was doing.

"I don't have anymore, I told you that." Sherlock snapped defensively.

"I know that is what you said, but I need to make sure anyway." John said coldly.

"Are you saying you don't trust me?" Sherlock said sadly.

"I am saying that you have lost it, so for all I know you really think there isn't anymore, but there is because your crazy forgot about it." John snapped harshly.

Sherlock just sat there stunned, feeling broken and on the verge of tears. Silence filled the flat as John finished his search, coming up with nothing.

"I can't find anything, but that doesn't mean nothing is here. I will ask Lestrade to do a proper search." John stated as he sat down on the couch next to Sherlock. He looked over at the detective and the pain and hurt that was in his eyes was almost unbearable to look at.

"Sorry, I didn't mean too… I am just really worried about you is all." John said, mask melting and emotions bleeding through. Sherlock grabbed on to John, chest heaving as he cried softly into John's shoulder. John pulled him in and held him close.

"I am so sorry John, I really I am. I never meant too…" Sherlock cried, voice muffled by the fabric of John's jumper.

"I know." John said softly. "I know. It is okay. I will find some way to help you…" John just sat there, feeling completely helpless, comforting Sherlock as he fell apart.

Suddenly a phone is heard ringing. Sherlock looked up, and John grabbed the phone out of his pocket.

"Hello?" John answered, annoyed. Sherlock watched as John's face fell from annoyed to terrified. "Oh my God!" John shouted out, fear consuming him entirely as he dropped his phone, and jumped to his feet.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked, panicked by John's behavior.

"It's Mary." John said fearfully. "Something has gone horribly wrong with the baby."


	14. Mary and the Baby

**Author's note: (So this chapter really doesn't get lighter from the last one, if anything it gets worse. Don't worry though; this is not the last chapter to this story. Please let me know what you think, and thanks to all my wonderful followers.)**

* * *

Sherlock sat stunned for a moment, unsure of what to even say.

He had never seen John looked as scared as he did at that moment.

"What, what do you mean? What happened?" Sherlock finally stuttered out, not sure as to what he should do.

"I-I'm not sure. I just got a call. Mary is in the hospital, something about the baby… It's a bit of a blur. I am not sure." John was pacing back and forth, his breath was coming and going in quick bursts as his head span, and his body threated to give out and collapse.

"Go" Sherlock said, fear straining his voice. "I will be fine."

"I don't know if I can. What if…" His voice cut out as his mind turned for the worst.

"Don't think that way, don't go there." Sherlock said, jumping to his feet and grabbing John's shoulders.

"Come with me, please. I can't do this alone." John broke down, crying into Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock stood fast, a cold fear eating at him. "I can't." He choked out, almost crying again. "I can't see Mary, it is wrong. I don't belong there."

"Please" John whimpered through the tears. "I need you."

Sherlock felt sick, but he held John close, petting his hair. "Okay" Sherlock said uneasily. He knew he was going to regret doing this, but he would do anything for John. _Especially if he says that he needs you. Pathetic… _

John held on for a few more moments, drying his tears on Sherlock's scarf. He looked up at Sherlock and saw fear. He knew that he must look awful if Sherlock looked scared. He grabbed Sherlock's hand, composing himself.

"Let's go." John said, having finally regained control of his emotions. Sherlock nodded, holding on to his hand tightly until they stepped out on to the street. Before they could get a cab, Lestrade pulled up in front of the house.

"I heard what happened, get it." He said, throwing open the door for them. Sherlock and John clambered in, barely having closed the door before Lestrade was taking off at top speed.

Lestrade noticed Sherlock sitting next to John, clutching his hand for dear life.

"Really?" He said, voice bordering on furious. "Your wife is in the hospital because something has gone wrong with your child and you bring your boyfriend? Worse than that, you are still holding his blasted hand."

John could feel Sherlock tense, his body grew ridged, and his hold on John's hand became painful. He looked at Sherlock's face. His eyes were glowing with anger, and his whole face was completely stiff. He could see a slight twitch in Sherlock's left eye as he strained to the best of his ability to not open his mouth. John himself was feeling furious, but his fear and confusion was enough of a distraction for him to keep his cool.

"You don't understand, he is my best friend and I need him there." John said, taking a deep breath, trying to manage his anger.

Lestrade huffed. "He was your best friend until you shagged him. Now he is just a dirty secret you keep from Mary."

Sherlock started to say something, but John looked at him pleadingly. "Please don't" John whispered, leaning against Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock looked at him with a stare that screamed 'I'm going to kill him for talking to you like that.'

"Just let me handle it, okay? I don't need you getting arrested for killing a detective of Scotland Yard." John said, trying to sooth Sherlock by talking calmly. Sherlock said nothing, nuzzling into John's neck.

"He is still my best friend, and he always will be. Regardless of whatever happens between us-" John ran his thumb over the top of Sherlock's hand gently, shooting him a smile that expressed nothing but love. "I will always need him to be by my side. You have no right to judge us."

Lestrade rolled his eyes, but said nothing more. Sherlock lifted his head up and looked at John. He could feel tears starting to building in his eyes as he stared at the man. He had been fighting John for weeks, telling him how he could never actually be loved, and that John was lying to him. Here he was, feeling broken and scared, and he still kept his calm and stood up for him.

"I am sorry John." Sherlock whispered, feeling so many emotions he was not sure which ones he should express. "For fighting you all those time you said you loved me. I don't know what if anything will actually ever happen between us, but I don't care. I love you and I see now through everything you have done in the last few hours that you love me too, and I never should have fought you on it."

John looked at Sherlock, feeling a ping of light course through him. His head was hurting, his world possibly falling apart, and here Sherlock was. A light in the dark. He dove on Sherlock, kissing him with a need that was beyond want or sexual desire. Neither man could contain the tears that now soaked both of their faces. John had pushed Sherlock down so that he was laying the length of the backseat, and John was lying on top of him.

"I love you, I love you so much." Sherlock whimpered between kisses. "I am so sorry."

"It's okay." John cried. "It's okay." He held Sherlock's head gently in his hands, tangling his fingers in the curls.

The car came to a sudden stop, sending John and Sherlock tumbling onto the floor of the car. Sherlock's head slammed hard against the floor and John crashed against the back of the front seat and Sherlock's chest.

"Fuck!" John shouted out, fumbling to try and get himself and Sherlock off the floor. "What the hell Greg?"

"Sorry, but we're here." Lestrade said, trying not to laugh. John grimaced as he sat back on the seat, pulling Sherlock up with him. Sherlock's vision was spinning from the impact, and a silent fury was building in him. John looked out the window, staring at the hospital. All of his worries came flooding back. Mary, the Baby. His blood ran cold.

"It's okay." Sherlock said, kissing John's cheek. "I will be right there by your side."

John took a deep breath, composing himself before stepping out of the car and walking up to the steps of Saint Bart's. The urge to grab ahold of Sherlock's hand was overwhelming as he walked up the steps and to the doors. John looked to Sherlock for a moment before entering the building.

"My wife, Mary, was brought in a little while ago. Mary Watson? Pregnant?" John said, voice slightly panicked as he approached the service counter.

"One moment please." The nurse said, turning away to flip through some files. "Here she is. She went into early labor. Room 221." She turned to look at Sherlock. "He can't go though, husband only."

"But-" Sherlock started to argue, but John pulled him away.

"Please, just stay here. Don't leave. I will need you here no matter what happens." John said pleadingly.

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, but closed it instead. He just nodded his head solemnly, watching as John ran off to his wife. _Enjoy this sight, for it is something you will see time and time again. John leaving you for Mary. John running away from you. John leaving you. __**SHUT UP!**_

* * *

Screaming. Crying. John could hear Mary from several rooms away as he hurried to get to her. He got to the door, but froze, fearing clenching his stomach. He took a moment, forcing himself to pull together. He opened the door slowly, walking in carefully, taking in everything to see. Mary was lying on the bed limply now, while doctor's were walking around, talking fast. John walked over to her, crouching down to grab her hand, and pet her head.

"I'm here now." John said calmly. Mary looked up at him, her body looked weak and frail, and her eyes were filled with tears. "What's wrong?" John asked, looking at Mary's face, and then looking around. "Where's the baby?"

Mary started crying, grabbing John's hand tightly. John froze. "Oh God." He said, voice rising to a higher pitch as hot fresh tears flowed from his eyes and dripped on to Mary's hand.

"What happened?" John managed to squeak out after a few moments of none stop crying.

"She went into early labor, my guess is because of some sort of stress, and the baby didn't make it. She was stillborn." The doctor walked over, explaining to John what had happened.

"She?" John asked, looking at Mary.

"It seemed so." Mary said, voice left nothing but a harsh whisper.

It felt like hours, sitting around, crying in the room, waiting for something to happen. Doctor's came in and out, checking on Mary, asking questions. By the time John was allowed to leave for a moment, he was nothing but an empty shell. He wasn't sure how he got there, but suddenly he was downstairs, staring at Sherlock. He could see Sherlock's mouth moving, but he heard no noise.

"John" Sherlock's voice finally broke through. "John!" He sounded a bit panicked.

"The baby." John whispered, not sure how he was even talking. "She, uh, she didn't make it."

"Oh god, John, I am so sorry." Sherlock said, shock coursing through him.

"I had a daughter apparently… Well, I guess I never really did. She was stillborn." John said, voice numbed.

Sherlock didn't know what to do, or what to say, so he did nothing. He just stood there and listened as John spoke about his baby. The pained numbness that held John's voice captive pained Sherlock to hear, but he did nothing and he said not a word.

"I should get back to Mary." John said after a while.

"I understand, go." Sherlock said, a ping of sadness attacking his stomach.

* * *

After a few hours, after the doctor's did all the tests they needed, John came back to the lobby, pushing Mary in a wheelchair. Sherlock saw them coming and stood up, having been waiting there the whole time. Not leaving until John said he could. _Wait for your master dog, that a boy! _

"They said that I can finally take Mary home." John said, sounding no better than he did earlier. "You can go now, but thank you for still being here."

Sherlock nodded, looking over the broken doctor and his wife. Pain and guilt seized his whole body when he saw Mary.

"I am sorry for your loss." Sherlock managed to say, sounding half normal.

"Thank you for being here for John." Mary said, voice weak and fragile. Sherlock suddenly felt like throwing up, the guilt making him physically ill.

"It was no trouble; I was not doing anything else anyway." Sherlock said, putting up his false front. Mary smiled as John pushed her to the door, and she stood up.

"I will be right there; I just need to have a quick word with Sherlock." John said, helping her stand and get out the door. "Hail a cab, I'll be there in minute." Mary nodded and walked out to the street.

"Sherlock" John said, voice pained in a different way as he walked up to the detective. "I am sorry, but I can't see you for a while."

Sherlock's entire body froze up, and he just knew he was going to collapse, fall apart on the floor, but he didn't. He said strong because John needed him to.

"I had a suspicion." Sherlock said, voice cracking. "I understand."

"Thank you, really. For everything." John said, brought back to the verge of tears. He hugged Sherlock tightly, not caring who saw. Sherlock froze up.

"I will always love you Sherlock, but now is just not right for us to be together anymore." John whimpered. "Maybe, after a while, we can be." John said, trying to bring a lighter tone into the darkness.

"No, we can't." Sherlock choked, wanting to kill himself for uttering those words. "She needs you now. More than I need you. You have to be there for her now John and you can't hurt her anymore, even if she doesn't know you are doing it. Promise me; promise me you will take care of her." He tried to keep emotion out of his voice, because if even a little bit of his emotions escaped, John would know the pain Sherlock was in, and he would never go.

John looked up at him, hurt filled his eyes. It was as if Sherlock had said that he was dying, or going away forever. John wanted to argue, wanted to fight him on it, but he knew Sherlock was right.

"Okay." John said softly, voice wet with tears. "I promise."

"Good" Sherlock said, wiping a falling tear from John's cheek and brushing the hair from his eyes. "Goodbye John." He said, feeling his own emotions start to slip through his hard shell.

"Goodbye Sherlock." John said, pulling away and walking for the door. He looked at Sherlock a final time before walking down to the street, and getting in the cab that Mary had waiting for them. Sherlock stared for a while before walking back to his flat. It had started to rain, and the water that fell from the sky masked the water that fell from his eyes.

Once back, he took off his coat and scarf, throwing them to the ground carelessly. He stumbled into John's chair and curled up into a little ball, sobbing as Victor shouted away in his head. _I told you… I told you… I told you… __**You were right…**_


	15. Intermission

**Author's Note: (Like I have said before, writing this has been really emotionally painful for me, so it is taking me longer to write the last 3 chapters. (One is an epilogue). Here is a sexy intermission to keep you all entertained. Also, I was really hoping that one of you lovely followers could draw some fan art for "Needing You". PM me if interested. I would do it myself, but like I said, this story causes me lots of pain. Please review, thanks!)**

* * *

John threw open the door of 221B, hearing the door slam against the wall, then crash back against the door frame. He threw his coat carelessly to the floor, charging inside.

"Sherlock!" He shouted, darting around the flat, looking for the detective. "Sherlock!"

"John?" Sherlock asked, stumbling out of his room. His hair was a mess, and his clothes were completely disheveled.

"I-I left Mary." John said, running up to Sherlock, breath caught in his throat. "I left her, Sherlock, I really did it."

Sherlock's jaw dropped, his mind drawing to a blank for the first time in his life. "What?" He finally asked.

"The only reason I was still with her, was because of the baby, you know that. Well, with the baby...gone... I had no reason to stay with her. I love you Sherlock, and now we can be together." John said, face pulling into a dark sort of smile.

He grabbed Sherlock's shoulders before he could think of some snide reason why it was all a horrible idea, and enveloped his mouth with his own. He moaned, breaking the kiss only long enough to tug off Sherlock's shirt. He threw the fabric carelessly to the floor.

"John..." Sherlock whimpered out, feeling his arousal grow by the second. He pulled the smaller man in tightly, complete caught up in the moment. He tugged John's jumper off, letting it land softly next to his own shirt. The kissing was slow; soft and tender, but with a spark of neediness that neither of them could ignore. John grabbed Sherlock, picking him up in one swift motion.

"Hey, what are you-" Sherlock started, but his sentence was cut of as John threw Sherlock down on the couch, them perched on top of him. He straddled Sherlock's waist, rubbing himself against the outside of Sherlock's to-tight pants. Sherlock's cock twitched, aching to be free of it's fabric prison. He could feel the inside of his pants drenched in precum as John moved his hands to Sherlock's hips.

"You are so amazing." John cooed in Sherlock's ear, sucking and nipping lovingly on the lobe as he slowly undid Sherlock's pants, then pulled the detective free of them. Sherlock was painfully hard, and he whimpered as he cock met the slight chill of the air. John shout Sherlock a grin that could have completely undone him right there and then, before lowering his head down to Sherlock's dick.

"Please" Sherlock groaned, thrusting himself closer to John's face as the army doctor stayed just out of reach, teasing Sherlock, making him need.

"For you, anything." John said, dropping his head, mouth closing around the hard stiffness of Sherlock's cock. Sherlock arched his back, moaning loudly as John's tongue slid and flicked over the slit. He puffed out his cheeks, taking as much of Sherlock into his mouth as possible. Sherlock thrusted into John's mouth, slamming his cock against the back of John's throat. John gagged at first, but he took him all in, sucking and licking every inch greedily.

"ah ah AH!" Sherlock groaned loudly, every little sensation hyper sensitive. "J-John!"

John hummed, sending vibrations coursing through Sherlock's cock, and electrocuting his brain. One, two, three, and Sherlock was tumbling down into orgasm. He shut his eyes tightly, mouth pulling into a tight "O" as he shouted out John's name.

"That was spectacular." Sherlock said, looking up. He was lying alone in his room, surrounded by complete darkness. His hand was held fast on his cock covered in cum. He could feel his hardness turn soft as he let go of himself and reached for a tissue he had sitting on his bedside table waiting for him.

"I miss you John." Sherlock said aloud to himself.

"At least you have your little fantasies to keep you company." Victor said, walking up to Sherlock's bedside. "I mean, if he can't REALLY be here to get you off, at least you can use your amazing brain to create realistic fantasies where he is."

Sherlock hugged his knees tightly, trying to pull away from Victor. He looked at the empty spot on the other side of his bed. He could still see John's face sleepy face smiling at him. It had not even been a week since he was lying there, exhausted because of the pleasure Sherlock had given him. He stared at the John sized gap in his bed, filling him with sorrow as he thought about the John sized hole that was torn into his soul.

"You still have me, and I will never leave you." Victor said, sitting down next to Sherlock. He chuckled, then dug his fingernails into the bite mark on Sherlock's neck. Sherlock cried out in pain, as Victor laughed hysterically. "The pain will drag you back to reality, back to me. Away from HIM."

Sherlock curled in on himself, crying softly as he drifted into a nightmare filled sleep overflowing with Victor's laughter.


	16. Four Months Passing

**Author's Note: (This chapter jumps around the time line of 4 months switching in between John and Sherlock's view points, so just hang with it. Also, I changed the names of chapter 5 and chapter 12. Extra long chapter, so please enjoy and review.*WARNING* Sexual Assault)**

* * *

John: Month One

The taxi ride back to their flat seemed to last a painful eternity as Mary lay limp against John's side. He put his arm around her to try and provide some comfort, but he wasn't sure how much good he was doing. He looked at Mary, seeing a cold nothingness pour from her stilled eyes. He wondered what his life would be like now that so much had changed. He had lost his daughter, and his best friend who was now so much more than just. He still had his wife, but this was a woman who he had been thinking about leaving, but was not forced to stay with. Before leaving, he promised Sherlock that he would take care of Mary, and he was going to. Not because he loved Mary, which he did no longer, seeing her just reminded him of his dead daughter, but because he loved Sherlock.

Mary moved a little against his side and John was jolted out of thought. He looked over to her, but nothing had seemed to change beside the position she was sitting in. It was raining now, so John looked out the window, watching the water droplets collide with the earth.

John scarcely noticed when the cab had stopped, not realize he had arrived home until a sound from the front seat showed the cabbie's annoyance at John and Mary for not getting out and paying him. John tapped Mary on the shoulder, and she looked up slowly.

"We're home." _Not my home._ John said gently, running a hand through Mary's hair. _Not as nice as Sherlock's…_ Mary nodded and sat up. John opened the door, and gave Mary a hand getting out. He slipped the cabbie some notes before assisting Mary in getting into their flat.

"I'm just going to lie down." Mary said, making her way slowly to the bedroom. John heard the door close gently behind her as he sat down at the table near his kitchen. He held his head tightly in his hands, using every muscle to resist slamming his head down on the table until he fell into unconsciousness.

_Beer will help._ John thought to himself as he stood stiffly and walked over to the fridge. Much to his dismay, upon opening the fridge he found he only had one bottle, and that simply would not do.

"I'm running out to get some shopping and maybe some take-away. I'll be back soon." John said against his bedroom door. He heard a slight noise that he assumed was Mary saying okay, so he grabbed his wallet and left. There was pub not to blocks away, so he figured he would just walk through the rain. Gave him a chance to clear his head, and try to make sense of the mess that was now his existence.

As John walked closer to the pub he could only think of that night, it seemed like a life time ago, where he and Sherlock had gone to a pub, relaxing and drinking, then... John sighed. It was the best sex he had had in a long time, even drunk. Why? Because it was Sherlock. It was always Sherlock, and now he would never get to be with him again and that thought was just to painful to dwell he walked inside the door of the pub he had been so deep in thought that he had not realized he had gotten there. He looked around at the patrons. Sherlock would have seen so much, but John just saw people. He walked over to the bar, sat down, and ordered a stiff beer. Tonight he drank to kill his emotions.

"I will need more of these, just keep them coming." John said to the man behind the bar before turning and looking around. He saw someone familiar sitting in a corner near the back of the establishment.

"Lestrade?" John asked, slipping of the stool and walking over.

"John?" Lestrade asked, words slurred with inebriation. He had obviously been here a while. "Come on over here."

John walked over to the small table Lestrade was perched at, sitting down in a chair across from the drunk D.I. The last time John had spoken to Lestrade had been several hours ago, and he had been bashing him on his relationship with Sherlock.

John felt all the anger he had been suppressing at the time build up and burn like a fire, but when Lestrade looked up at him, a bucket of water quenched the flames of anger. Lestrade's eyes looked sad through the glaze of drunkenness, and John could do nothing but feel as his own sorrows chilled his blood and dragged him away from anger and back to sorrow.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be home with Mary and the baby? Or with Sherlock?" Lestrade bit out the last words with a touch of anger.

John downed his drink in one go, motioning for another to be brought. He felt his pain and regrets clench his stomach.

"Umm, the baby didn't make it, and Mary wanted to be left alone." John said, not sure if the thing about Mary was true or not. "And Sherlock and I broke up." John felt sick saying it out loud. It just made it to real.

"Oh." Lestrade said, demeanor changing completely. "Sorry to hear all that."

"Yeah…" John sighed into the new glass that the waiter had brought over.

"Well, tonight we drink in hope to forget." Lestrade said, smile creeping onto his beer stained lips. He lifted his glass.

"I'll drink to that." John said, hitting his glass against Lestrade's, and then taking a deep drink.

"I will need more of these." John said pointing to his glass. "So will he, and keep them coming." Everything after that was a bit of a blur, and John was thankful for it.

* * *

Sherlock: Month One

Sherlock woke up in the late of noon, panting in a cold sweat. Victor had assaulted his mind, his dreams, none stop for hours. When he finally found the courage to open his eyes and look around, Victor was perched on the edge of his bed smiling.

"Why, good morning Sherlock." Victor said bitter sweetly. "Did you sleep well?"

Sherlock ignored Victor, slowly rising to his feet. He wrapped a sheet around himself, and walked for the bathroom. Perhaps a scalding shower could bring him some perspective. Victor tripped him as he walked, and he crashed hard against the floor. His lip was bleeding, he could taste it, and his knee was bruised, both otherwise he would be fine.

"Looks like you fell again." Victor said teasingly. "Are you going to pretend to be dead for two years this time round?"

Sherlock exhaled sharply, pulling himself off the floor. He figured if he ignored him, he would just leave. He opened the door, leaving his room and hopefully Victor behind. He got the bathroom, closing and locking the door. He knew that Victor was not real; he knew the locked door wouldn't keep him out, but it was a silly human comfort.

He turned on the water, steam pillowing from the pipes and filling the room to a point of near suffocation. He stepped inside, water burning his back. He hissed, the pain covering every inch of his exposed flesh. Pain was good, pain was real.

"Oh, I do love a show." Victor said, hand leaning on his chin as he sat on the edge of the toilet, staring at Sherlock. "Please, entertain me."

Sherlock started to cover himself, but realized there was no point in it. Victor would stay just the same, and he wasn't real. He put some soap on a sponge, dragging it down his arms in a sort of daze. It wasn't until he was almost completely washed up that he realized that he had used John's soap and not his own.

"Case" Sherlock muttered to himself as he stepped out and dried off. "I need a case."

"Oh goody!" Victor said, voice brimming with excitement. "Since your old one fuck you and ran, can I be your blogger?"

Sherlock ignored Victor with much difficulty this time as he went back to his room and got dressed. He would play his violin for a while, try to clear his mind up a bit more, then he would head down to the yard and demand a case from Lestrade.

Day planned out, Sherlock sank into his chair, pulling out his violin. He placed it to his chin, bow held gently in his hand, and began to play.

"How lovely of you to serenade me." Victor said blissfully, leaning back in John's chair. He stretched out his leg, petting Sherlock's thigh with his toes. Sherlock cringed at the contact, but kept playing. He was not going to let Victor mess up his life any more than it had already been.

* * *

"Give me a case." Sherlock said, throwing up Lestrade's door, then passing back and forth while Victor sat down and watched the interaction. Lestrade looked up at Sherlock, hands pressed to his head as he squinted in pain.

"Could you please keep it down." Lestrade growled through clenched teeth. He opened his desk drawer, pulling out a couple of aspirin, and downing them with a glass of water that sat on his desk.

"Out drinking, were we?" Sherlock asked, putting on a bored and unsympathetic tone. He needed to act is if nothing were wrong. He looked Lestrade over; his hair was a mess, he kept grabbing the sides of his head, and he had a familiar smell on him. It only took a moment to realize what the smell was.

"And with John. Most have been a crazy night if you didn't get a chance to shower and comb your hair before coming in today." Sherlock said flatly, sorrow drilling its way into the pit in his stomach. No, Lestrade will not see him break down.

"Yeah" Lestrade said, looking up. "I was having a drink and just happened to run into John. He told me what happened. How are you doing with it all?" He asked, face softening.

"Perfectly fine, I knew it would happen eventually. Couldn't care less really." Sherlock said dismissively, a little too quickly, desperate to hide his real emotions.

"Tisk, tisk. You naughty boy. What a liar you are, Sherlock. You will have to be punished for that later." Victor said, smile shinning and eyes glowing with hatred.

"If you say so, not really in the mind to argue right now." Lestrade said, shuffling through some papers. "What are you looking for exactly?"

"Something, anything. Preferably a murder, a bloody one." Sherlock listed off, acting as if he were walking about what kind of shoes he wanted to buy.

"Give me a minute and I will try to find something for you." Lestrade said, flipping through file after file. "It's been pretty quiet lately, not many murders."

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "Of course now London decides that murder is wrong. Right when I need a case the most." Sherlock complained loudly.

"You could focus on me?" Victor said, standing up and walking to Sherlock's side. "I can make you forget about John. I can be your case."

"Do you have anything or not, my patience is wearing thin." Sherlock snapped, trying to not be obvious about the fact he was trying to get away from someone.

"Here's one." Lestrade said, finally looking up. "Will a cold case do?"

"Perfect." Sherlock said, snatching the file from Lestrade's hand and walking out the door briskly. His coat swooshed as he stormed from the office, and he made sure to slam Lestrade's door for good measure. He heard him curse Sherlock's name which brought a small smile to the broken detective's lips.

* * *

John: Month Two

"Mary, I am leaving for the Surgery now. Be back later tonight. Call if you need anything." John called through the closed door. Mary had not left their room since coming home from the hospital, and it was starting to worry John.

"Okay, bye." He heard Mary call out weakly in response. He started to say something, but shook his head thinking better of it. John had spent a lot of time in the last month trying to stay out of the house, whether he was working or grabbing drinks with Lestrade (which had become quite the regular thing).

He wasn't sure of the effect it was having on Mary, but he only cared a little. The last month had been hard for him, being without Sherlock and forced to try and be near Mary. He knew he loved her once, but he very much did not anymore. He felt guilty for it of course, but looking at her he saw only his dead child and his crushed happiness. Because of her, he would never get to be with the person he really loved, and maybe he was making her pay for it subconsciously.

He walked down to the street, and tried to hail a cab. When he was with Sherlock, it always seemed that Sherlock could just pull a cab out of thin air. He smiled at the thought of that, not noticing when a cab pulled up to the curb.

"Ehum" The driver said, getting John's attention. "Need a ride or what?"

"Oh yeah, right." John said shaking his head, then climbing into the cab. He gave his work address, and then fell back in silence. He looked to his side and he could almost see Sherlock sitting there. His thick dark hair framing his perfect cheek bones as rings of sun drifted and slipped from his face. His hand curled tightly around John's as if one would die if they let go. The slight smile that always teased at his lips every time John would lean into his side.

"Excuse me? Sir? We've arrived." The cabbie said, dragging John from his fantasy. He was getting lost in his head during cab rides a lot now a days.

"Thanks." He said, climbing out and paying. He watched the cab pull away, and he swore he saw the cabbie shake his head with annoyance. John shrugged, wouldn't be the first time he was ditzy with a cabbie, and it wouldn't be the last. He walked into the Surgery, checking in, the going right to his exam room.

It was a relatively quiet day, only 5 patients. He clocked out early, and headed to the pub which had become his usual hang.

He looked around, but didn't see Lestrade. _Alone then? Good._ John thought to himself as he took a sip from his drink. Being a regular, all he had to do was walk in before he had a drink in his hand. _God, I am turning into Harry…_ He thought, but he hardly cared anymore. How much more could he take before he lost it all together? All of it, because Sherlock had asked him to, and he will do whatever Sherlock wants him to. _That's just the curse of getting caught up in that crazy mad man._ John thought, drowning his sorrows in a pool of beer.

* * *

Sherlock: Month Two

"You shouldn't worry; your husband is not involved in any criminal activity." Sherlock said, tone conveying a pure form of boredom.

"How do you-?" A woman who was sitting on Sherlock's couch asked, eyes and mouth gaping.

"He has been sneaky around because he is having an affair with his secretary." He stared at the woman for a moment. "And his boss, though he is thinking about stopping that one."

Tears began to fill the eyes of the confused woman.

"Please," Sherlock said, almost angrily. "If you are going to do that, leave first. I shouldn't have to deal with a pregnant woman's unbalanced hormones. Oh, congratulations on the baby by the way, though the father might not be pleased as he is planning to leave you for his secretary." Sherlock smiled, but it held no kindness, only annoyance.

The woman ran quickly out of the flat, sobbing deeply into her hands.

Sherlock rubbed his temples, and then leaned back into his chair striking what John called his "thinking pose". He knew that he should have been nicer about telling that woman about her husband and her pregnancy, but that was always John's job. John would have stepped in and comforted her, told Sherlock to stop being such an awful wanker. He smiled in spite of himself.

"Wow that is the 4th case this month." Victor said, dragging his hand slowly across Sherlock's shoulder blades. "You are brilliant." He whispered sensually in Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock cringed, trying to slink away from Victor's mouth. "I wish you would stop getting so close to me." Sherlock said dully. He had given up on ignoring Victor, because it only made him worse.

"Oh, but Sherlock I must. You have no idea the things I am waiting to do to you. Just go to sleep." Victor purred.

Sherlock knew nothing good could come from him sleeping when Victor had so much control. He learned that Victor could not touch him or hurt him when he was awake, but in his sleep… That is why he had been living on tea and coffee for the last 2 weeks, afraid of the things Victor will do now that Sherlock has no power to stop him.

"Not interested." Sherlock said, breathing sharply. He picked up his violin and played loudly, trying to keep himself awake, and block out Victor's filthy words.

Hours of violin playing later, Sherlock found himself in the shower. He thought about the time he and John had spent in that very spot. John's face when Sherlock penetrated him, his face when Sherlock sucked him off, his face when he came because of the things Sherlock had done to him. Those thoughts alone served Sherlock well enough for a quick wank, but his stomach dropped painfully when he looked up from his post orgasm bliss to see Victor staring at him.

"Is there no privacy in this house?" Sherlock snapped, shutting off the water, and putting on a dressing robe.

"No." Victor said plainly, following Sherlock back to the lounge. "Not anymore."

* * *

John: Month Three

"I have work in the morning, so I better head home." Lestrade said, standing up to almost fall immediately back over.

"So do I, but you don't see me leaving." John said, face red with intoxication.

"Yeah well, eh." Lestrade slurred, not finding an argument that held valid. He stumbled across the pub, till he fell through the door and into the street. John laughed silently to himself, waving for the bar keep to bring him another round. He hardly noticed when a man walked up to him.

"Excuse me." The man said, face pulled into a smile. "Is this seat taken?"

"No, not at all." John said, swaying slightly to one side. He looked up as the man sat in the chair Lestrade had previously occupied. He was tall with shortish dark wavy hair, and blue eyes. In his drunken state, the man looked a lot like Sherlock, and it pained him to look.

"Name's Chris." The man said, extending his hand for John to take.

"John" He replied, taking the man's hand and shaking it firmly. He remembered how he had held Sherlock's hand from across a table at the pub near Baker Street, and he quickly let go.

"So John," Chris said pleasantly. "Was that your boyfriend that just left?"

It took John a moment to register what he had just been asked, and when he figured it out, he gasped a little.

"No, just a friend." John said quickly "and who is to say I am gay anyways?" This was a question he often wanted to know the answer to.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I guess I just hoped you were." Chris said bashfully, blush creeping onto his face. "I think you are pretty hot."

John swallowed hard, his body betraying what his mind knew was right.

"Is bi good enough?" John asked, eyes becoming lustful. This man might not have been Sherlock, but he sure looked like him, and that was enough for right now.

Chris's face drew into a huge smile. "Certainly." He said, grabbing John's wrist and pulling him to his feet.

"Where are we going?" John asked as Chris pulled him along.

"Somewhere private if that is okay with you." Chris said, feet not missing a beat as he continued to hurry along.

"Desperate are we?" John asked, voice falling into a low kind of laugh.

"You have no idea." Was the only reply he got before he was being dragged into an elevator.

Suddenly lips were pressed against his, a needy tongue prying to get through John's closed mouth. John opened up for him, swallowing his tongue and gliding his own against Chris's lips. Teeth clanked against each other as both tried to find the right position. Chris held John's head fast in his hands and grinded his crotch against John's. The sensation on having an erection grind against John again made him whimper needily, his own pants now growing too tight.

The door to the elevator opened, leaving Chris and John falling to the floor, bodies intertwined. Chris leapt to his feet, dragging John up with him as he darted for a door.

Soon, they were crashing through said down, and fumbling with clothing. John's head was spinning, but in his mind he was with Sherlock again. He groaned "Sherlock" under his breath, but Chris did not seem to notice, or if he did, he did not care.

Tonight was going to be a nice break from the boring sadness that was John Watson's life, and he was ready to take it all in. Literally.

* * *

Sherlock: Month Three

"Hush now Sherlock. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more." Victor sang gently into Sherlock's ear. He had not slept in almost a month, and his body was breaking down. His mind was deteriorating into normalcy, and he was beginning to feel hungry all the time.

"Just sleep Sherlock, please. Look at yourself. You are falling apart my dear."

"Shut up, just SHUT UP!" Sherlock shouted, shoving his hands into his ears. He couldn't handle anything anymore. He had not worked a case in weeks, his mind crumbling until he could no longer deduce even the simplest things such as affairs or cover-ups. He needed to sleep, and he knew he was going to within the next day, maybe sooner. He walked in a daze, tripping over his own feet as he made his way to his bed.

"Good… Good…" Victor whispered gently, soothingly. "Sleep now Sherlock, refresh your brilliant mind. Seeing you fall apart like this is awful." The way Victor said it Sherlock could almost believe he meant it, but the giant smile that swallowed his face showed the truth.

"No" Sherlock whimpered, vision fading to black as his head hit the pillow. The last thing he could recall was Victor's smile as his face loomed ever closer.

* * *

"Nice to finally have you here." Sherlock could hear Victor's voice echoing around him. He blinked, realizing his eyes were open, but he was just in a dark space. He tried moving his hands, but he couldn't. _Bound_. He tried moving his legs, testing everything. _Head to toe, too tight to get out of. Can't get wrist in the right position to break thumb. Trapped._

"Good analysis. Completely correct by the way. Can't get out of this one brilliant detective." Victor's laugh bounced around the room, slamming against Sherlock's ears. Suddenly, a bright light flashed on, catching Sherlock completely off guard. It was blinding at first, but Sherlock blinked it away quickly. He saw Victor standing there, wearing tight vinyl pants and holding a riding crop. Sherlock looked down, realizing he was stark naked, tied up and left sitting helplessly on a cushion in the middle of the room. _Great…_

"Mmmm, just how I like it." Victor purred, voice ruff. "You never let me be in control. You always had to be the dom. Well, not this time darling. Time for me to have my fun." He smiled wickedly, lightly smacking Sherlock's thigh with the riding crop.

Sherlock flinched, but shrugged it off. He was not going to give Victor the satisfaction.

"Don't want to play?" Victor asked with fake sadness. "Maybe this will convince you otherwise." He opened a door that Sherlock had not seen before, and John came tumbling out of it. Tied and stripped just like he was.

"Don't you hurt him!" Sherlock said, suddenly in a panic. _Not real, not real, not real!_ Sherlock thought over and over, but he couldn't stop the way his body felt. He felt scared, and that is exactly what Victor had wanted.

"Well you see Sherlock, if I hurt him or not is strictly up to you." Victor smiled innocently. "Do what I say, and John here will be just fine." He ran a hand up John's back, stopping at the bullet scar, digging his finger into the muscle. John cried a muffled cry of pain, and Sherlock could taste the rage that thickened the air around him.

"Okay, okay." Sherlock said pleadingly. "Just don't." He knew that he had just walked right into Victor's hand, but he hardly cared. Even in dreams, this is all this was, John was all the mattered.

"That's my good boy." Victor cooed, kicking John aside and striding over to where Sherlock lay helplessly. He lifted Sherlock to his knees, using the ropes that bound him. It took all of Sherlock's will to not bite or spit at him. Victor ran his hand across Sherlock's face, tracing his lips lightly with the tip of his finger.

"Perfect." Victor growled. "Just perfect." His eyes glowed with vicious intentions as he threw Sherlock back to the ground. He grabbed the detective's waist, flipping him around so he was completely vulnerable.

"This will be a lot for fun if Jonny Boy gets to watch, don't you think?" Victor asked, walked over to John. He lifted him up and dropped him on a chair facing Sherlock. Victor fastened the ropes around the chair leaving no escape.

Sherlock looked up at John's eyes. Even in a dream he looked too real, eyes stricken with horror and tears flowing down his face steadily. He had a ball gag in his mouth, but Sherlock could tell he was whimpering, panicking. He wanted to tell John that it would be okay, but Sherlock was not sure of that fact.

"Oh, this is just how I imagined it!" Victor cried out with glee. "Having you while your little pet watches. Oh, how joyous!" He stalked back over to Sherlock, face glowing with hatred.

He moved his hand over Sherlock's arse, grabbing and twisting the flesh. Sherlock felt the tears in his eyes, but he refused to give Victor the satisfaction of seeing him in pain. At least that much he was in control of.

Victor laughed, raising his crop up and turning to look at John.

"Now pay attention John. See how his skin will turn a lovely shade of red, watch as tears fall from his eyes, listen as he struggle to not cry out with pain just in spite of me." Victor said softly. "It should be real fun."

Victor hit down on Sherlock hard, causing a gasp to escape from his lips. _Won't let him break me…_ Sherlock thought desperately as the blows continued to fall, each one causing him more and more pain. He felt tears falling down his face and splashing to the floor. He heard the whimpers that escaped his lips in spite of himself. He felt the burn of each blow as he was beaten down further and further into submission.

"I think I may be ready for the fun part." Victor said roughly. Sherlock heard the sounds of vinyl peeling off sweaty skin as he physically and mentally prepared himself for what was going too happened next.

Without warning, preparation, or lubricant, Sherlock suddenly felt the most painful intrusion. He felt as if his body was being torn apart, and this time he could not help but cry out in pain. With each thrust Sherlock felt the pain rise to unbearable levels. Through the blur of pain he could feel some kind of liquid running down his thighs. _Blood._ Sherlock clenched his teeth, desperate to try and make himself stop screaming. He looked over at John, trying to find anything at all to distract him.

John was fighting against the ropes, causing small cuts to form all over his body. In places the ropes had turned completely red, soaking through to drip on the floor. Sherlock opened his mouth to tell John to stop struggling, but the only thing that came out was a throat destroying scream that echoed around the room.

He heard Victor laughing though the screams, and he blood boiled. He tried to move, tried to get away, but Victor had him held fast and there was nothing he could do. Within minutes Victor's thrusts had increased in speed, and Sherlock almost fell unconscious from the pain.

"No!" Victor shouted, slapping Sherlock hard enough to drag him away from the brink of unconsciousness. "I want you to feel everything!"

Sherlock felt like he was going to fall apart, and he just didn't know how much more he could take. Suddenly, everything stopped. He felt Victor pull free of him, and then he realized there was now more than blood pouring down his thighs. He collapsed; face meeting hard with the ground, but it was pain he could take. Pain he was in control of.

"That was amazing. Your blood makes perfect lube." He heard Victor say, but his voice sounded far off. "It seems that you will be waking up soon. Shame, I wanted you to watch me play with Watson. Until next time Sherlock."

* * *

Sherlock's eyes snapped open, his body and sheets covered in sweat. He looked over at a clock and realized he had been asleep for almost two days. It had felt like only an hour or so in his dream. He sat up, rubbing his eyes in attempt to try and kill the nightmare.

"That was great for me, but how was it for you?" He saw Victor sitting down on the floor near his closet.

Sherlock almost threw up then and there, but he was able to make it to the bathroom. Not even the sounds of his painful retching could block out Victor's laughs, but he gave it is all regardless.

* * *

John: Month Four

"Mary, we need to talk about something. Will you come out and go get coffee with me?" John asked against the door. He had been trying to coax Mary out of the room for weeks, but every time he was met with negative results. It had come down to one simple fact; he couldn't be with Mary anymore. The night he spent with Chris had made him realize that is just wasn't fair to either of them to stay together. He was going to end it with her, and then beg Sherlock to understand. To take him back.

"Fine" He heard Mary say, her voice was soft.

It took about an hour, but John was able to get Mary out of the house. They walked together in silence, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Once they reached a small café, it was a relief. They were seated outside, and John was reminded of the time he had spent with Sherlock that wonderful day so long ago.

"Look Mary…" John started, but he just wasn't sure how to begin. She placed her hand on John's, and he looked up at her. She had a small smile and John could see the pain behind it.

"I know." She said calmly. "You want to split up, right?" She asked.

John's eyes widened, jaw dropping. "Well, yes actually. How did you-?"

"I know how you feel about him. I see it in your eyes every time you look at him, and I don't blame you. I knew that I was a replacement for him, and I accepted that, but he is back now." She stroked his hand gently. "You should be with him."

John was stunned, having no idea what he should even say. "Mary I-"

"Don't John, just don't." She wiped away a tear that fell from her eye. "I will get the papers started, and we will make this as clean as possible. I do think you should move out though."

"Mary…" John said, leaning over to kiss her cheek softly. "Thank you so much, you have no idea what you are doing for me."

"Yes I do. I am letting you be happy, which is something you could never be with me. Maybe if things had been different, if our daughter had…" She stopped for a moment to compose herself. "But it didn't work out that way. I have seen this coming for months John, don't worry. Go, be happy."

John stood up, and he pulled up Mary with him. "Thank you, truly. Thank you." He hugged her quickly, and as he did he saw a coat tail disappear around a corner. _Sherlock?_ He thought to himself, hope getting carried away. With one last smile, he ran out of the Café, determined to get to Baker Street. To get Sherlock back.

* * *

Sherlock: Month Four

Sherlock was feeling overwhelmed. Victor had been hurting him and John every time he went to sleep, and being cooped up in the flat wasn't helping matters. He had decided that morning after waking up from a particularly nasty nightmare that he was going to go for a walk and try to clear his mind.

"Are we going for a walk?" Victor asked, striding up to Sherlock's side.

"I am going for a walk, and I would really like it if you stayed here." Sherlock said, tying his scarf around his neck, and heading for the door.

"Oh, but Sherlock. Won't you miss me? I mean, we have been together 24/7 for four months." Victor cooed.

Sherlock sighed, walking out the door with a flick of his coat. He walked in silence, blocking out the noise Victor was making. He had had a rough few months, and he wished beyond all else that he was with John.

He walked past a small café when he heard something. He stopped, turning to look. He saw John and Mary at a table, holding hands. _I need to leave, don't listen, don't deduce. Just walk away…_ He walked over so he was within ear shot, then listened. He heard Mary's words and he could hardly believe it. He had to be asleep; this had to be a dream. No, it couldn't be. Victor wasn't raping him relentlessly. He watched John's face, saw how excited he was becoming. Was this it? No, good things don't happen to him. This has to be some kind of trick.

"Oh no, look at that." Victor said, a slight panic in his voice. "Looks like John is coming home."

For once, Sherlock hoped that Victor was right. He saw John hug Mary then look up. If Sherlock got caught spying on him… He took off running back to Baker Street, hope rising and washing through him. _Please, please, please._

He crashed through the door of his flat, almost falling over as he stumbled and landed on the couch. Should he make tea? What if John doesn't come? What if he does, but then Victor does something? No, he wouldn't let that happened. Victor had hurt John enough times in his dreams; he wasn't going to let him hurt him for real.

He was so deep in thought, in worry and hope, that he almost didn't hear when there was a knock on the door. His body seized up, not permitting him to move or talk.

"Did you want me to get the door?" Victor asked sarcastically.

Sherlock shrugged off the feeling that burned though his body, and walked carefully up to the door. When he opened it, it took every bit of strength he had to not cry or laugh or pounce on the man in the doorway.

"Sherlock." John said, voice coming out nothing more than a faint squeak. "I left Mary."


	17. Back to Baker Street

**Author's Note: (Well, this is kind of the last chapter. There is technically another chapter, but it takes place one year in the future, and it will not come out until March 4th. I hope you all have enjoyed this story, I know I have. It has been a huge part of my life for almost 2 months, and I will really miss writing for this world, though it has caused me so much pain. I can honestly say that I have never been so connected to a story that I wrote as I am to this one. Thanks to all of my amazing followers who have stuck with me, thanks to everyone who has left reviews, and a special thanks to my Beta: LeahMaeLaugh**

**I will see you all for the last chapter, but otherwise goodbye for now. I won't be working on a new story for a few months, but I hope to see you all back when I do.) **

* * *

Sherlock stood staring, tongue held by stunned silence. He knew what had happened, he had been at the café, but he still couldn't wrap his mind around it. This was everything Sherlock had wanted for years, so how could it be real? Things like this didn't happen to him. He looked at John, eyes wide. In his mind he was saying a thousand things, but not a word escaped his mouth. This had happened before, when John had asked him to be his best man.

Sherlock had been silent for too long, so John cleared his throat, and spoke up.

"Now before you say anything, please, just hear me out." John started, voice sounding needlessly desperate. "Mary and I have been miserable since everything happened with the baby. In fact, she is the one who said we should break up before I even had a chance to say anything about it. I know what you said about staying with her and how we couldn't be together but-"

He was interrupted by Sherlock falling against him, lips grabbing his own with rapid lust.

John was stiff at first, lips he had grown to know so well now felt foreign against his own, but he soon relaxed into it, excited to learn the curves of Sherlock's mouth once again.

"Oh, Sherlock." John moaned against Sherlock's lips, feeling tears tease at the edge of his eyes. "I've missed you so much."

"You have no idea how much I have missed you." Sherlock said, pulling away to meet John's eyes. He swallowed hard, deciding to tell John the truth about the events of the last few months.

"Victor has pretty much taken full power over mind. I see him constantly, while awake and asleep." He left out the part of Victor raping and torturing him and John. "In fact I see him now, standing over there-" he pointed towards the couch where Victor was standing still, face unreadable, but eyes glowing with something villainous.

"You haven't?-" John started carefully.

"I haven't taken anymore drugs, no." Sherlock said quickly, snappishness in his tone.

"Good, that's good." John said with a sigh, relief evident. He grabbed Sherlock's hand, wrapping his fingers around Sherlock's. His hand had a slight tremble to it, and John frowned.

"When was the last time you ate or slept?" John asked worriedly. He was looking over Sherlock now with careful eyes. His face was more sullen then usual, and his eyes had very dark circles. His entire body had a slight tremor, and his ribs jutted out against the fabric of his shirt. It was almost like staring at a ghost.

"2 weeks or so." Sherlock said dismissively, knowing that John would not approve of such behavior. "Unimportant."

"Unimportant, Sherlock you're going to kill yourself." John said, voice coming out both angry and scared. "Here is what is going to happen. I'm ordering take away, you are going to eat, and we are going to talk, then, I am going to shag you senselessly until you are so exhausted that you will have to sleep. Doctor's orders. Do you understand?"

Sherlock stared wide-eyed for a moment before replying.

"Fine" He grumbled, not sure if he was more annoyed or aroused. He pulled on John's hand, leading him to couch where he collapsed against it, dragging John with him. He pushed his way into John's arms, feeling a lot smaller then he usually did.

John pulled him in tight, leaning his head against the top of Sherlock's. He inhaled Sherlock's scent, kissing the curls that lay plastered to the top of the detective's head. He had wanted this for so long, Sherlock in his arms with no worries or rush with a place to be. It was definitely like a dream come true, and he wasn't going to let this dream become a nightmare. Not this time.

After a few perfect moments, John pulled his mobile from his pocket and rang for Chinese. He knew it was one of the few things that Sherlock would eat, and he need to make sure that Sherlock ate tonight.

"They'll bring it by in a bit." John said softly into Sherlock's hair. Sherlock had zoned out, completely at peace for the first time in months, so it took him a moment to realize that John had said anything.

"Don't care." Sherlock said groggily, but he could feel the hollow pit in his stomach that cried out with relief. Sherlock was so over joyed to have John back at Baker Street-wait. Was John back at Baker Street? Sherlock turned so he was looking up at John, and he could see his eyes sparkled with what could only have been love.

"John?" Sherlock asked, voice sounding smaller then he had meant it to. "Are you- are you moving back in?" His heart raced in anticipation.

"I would like to." John answered quickly, pushing the curls from Sherlock's eyes. "But only if I get to move into your room."

Sherlock felt like laughing and crying at the same time, so he just grabbed John's face and pulled it closer to his. "Of course you would be moving into my room, you think I would let you have your own? That is just idiotic." He smiled up at John, studying every little feature of the man's face.

"That's good then." John said, closing the distant between their lips for the briefest of seconds. "Because I never want to lie in a bed again unless it has you in it."

* * *

"Sherlock, either get the door or set up the eat-off trays." John said, hearing the doorbell ring as he and Sherlock sat up. "Help just a little bit."

"Fine." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. He walked to the kitchen, cleared off the table ("I don't want to eat with a jar of eyes staring at me!" John made himself perfectly clear), and went about setting up for their meal.

John walked with a smile down the stairs, paying the delivery boy, and walking back upstairs to a very impatient looking Sherlock who sat perched on the edge of a chair at the kitchen table.

"This is just a waste of time John, we can eat later." Sherlock complained loudly. John could practically see Sherlock throwing himself to the floor in a fit, and he smiled at the thought.

"No, you'll eat now. Besides-" John sat down across from Sherlock, taking the food out of the bags and placing at the table. "I'm starved. How can I give you a proper shagging on an empty stomach?" John winked at Sherlock a he placed food on both of their plates.

Sherlock said nothing, but he did take some food and raise it to his lips. Before he could stop himself, he was shoving food down his throat, stomach growling gratefully at the feeling of having something to digest besides Sherlock's stomach lining. John chuckled as he watched Sherlock inhale his food, taking time with his own.

"This is why you should eat more than once every two weeks." John said with a chuckle. Sherlock started to say something snarky in response, but his mouth was too full which made John laugh harder. Sherlock could do nothing but glare in response.

Once Sherlock had enough in his stomach, he slowed down, now having the ability to talk again.

"So, what has happened with you in the last few months?" John asked, wanting to know as much about what Sherlock was going through as possible.

Sherlock froze, eyes darting to a corner in which Victor stood glowering. The more Sherlock felt unsure and worried, the more he could see Victor's face change from that of anger to demented happiness. Sherlock closed his eyes, turning back to face John. He was going to tell him everything. Honesty was the most important thing in a relationship, or at least that is what Sherlock had read somewhere.

After taking a moment to clear is mind, and put his thoughts in a coherent order, Sherlock told John about going to Lestrade, getting cases, and Victor. Every little thing Victor had done to him in the daylight hours and in his dreams. By the end of it, Sherlock wasn't the only one who was sick to their stomach, and Victor was beaming.

"Sounds even better when told aloud to your plaything." Victor chuckled to himself.

John's eyes had grown dark with sorrow for Sherlock, and anger at a thing he could do nothing about, that torment his partner. When he finally found the will to speak, his voice came out hoarse.

"No wonder you haven't been sleeping." John said, grabbing Sherlock's hand and holding it tightly.

"Sleep is irrelevant anyways." Sherlock said, trying to sound normal.

John just stared at him for a few moments before standing up and taking Sherlock with him. He walked to the bedroom where he closed the door and lead Sherlock over to the bed. He brought his hand slowly up to Sherlock's face, caressing his cheek.

"I don't know if there is anything I can do" John started slowly, dragging his thumb across Sherlock's forehead and running it gently down his face to his chin. "But I will try anything possible to keep you safe, love."

Sherlock, unsure of what to say, just stood, staring at John like he was some kind of celestial being.

"I asked you a question a while back, but it was complicated then." Sherlock finally said, taking John's shoulder and lowering him to sit on the edge of the bed. "I think you can answer it now though. John, am I your boyfriend?"

John would have laughed had he not known that Sherlock was being serious.

"Of course you are." John said lovingly, planting a small kiss on Sherlock's jaw. "There really is nothing to stop us from being together anymore, and I need you more than anything."

Sherlock was feeling overwhelmed with something he could not quite define for it was something he had not truly felt since that day he had spent with John so long ago. Happiness: that was it. Sherlock was feeling so happy he felt like he was going to explode or fly away.

"Come on." John said after a few minutes of blissful silence. "Let's get you ready for bed."

He reached for Sherlock's shirt, undoing each button carefully then slowly pulling the fabric down from his shoulders, and off his arms. Each movement was meticulous. Calm and calculated.

"John?" Sherlock asked as John began to undo his belt and slip him free of his trousers. "How were your months away? I don't really care, but I assume it is the proper thing to do. At least, that is what you have told me."

John stopped for a moment, mind flashing to his one-night stand with Chris, but he pushed it far away, thinking it best if Sherlock never knew.

"Pretty shit." John said dismissively. "Just going to work, drinking every night, most of the time with Lestrade, then coming home to Mary. She never left our room, and that was part of the reason I just couldn't take being with her anymore. That and the fact I couldn't even look at her without seeing my daughter."

"I see." Sherlock said with a cold, calculated look. He had a feeling that John might have been leaving something out, but he was too tired, bloated, and happy to think about it.

John finished striping Sherlock, and then moved him up the bed, wrapping the blankets around the tired detective.

"John." Sherlock said wearily, reaching his hand out to grab the sleeve of John's jumper.

"Not going anywhere, just getting ready for bed myself." John said reassuringly, quickly removing his clothing, and then moving over to Sherlock's side.

He wrapped himself around Sherlock, pulling him in tightly. He kissed him softly, seeing that Sherlock was far too tired to partake in the plans they had made previously that evening.

"I love you." John whispered into Sherlock's ear, kissing the side of his face, then lying his head down on the pillow.

"I know." Sherlock said, realizing that John really did love him, and that he wasn't going to leave. He had left his wife, and now John was all his. Nothing was stopping them from being together. Being happy. He looked up and saw Victor standing at the foot of the bed like he always did before Sherlock fell asleep, but something was different. His body was becoming more and more transparent, melting into the scene around him.

"No!" Victor cried out, grasping at his form, trying to pull himself back together. "NO!" and with that final cry, he was gone.

_Maybe I can't be visible to you anymore, but I can still talk to you in here. You will never truly be rid of me… _

Sherlock smiled, nuzzling into John's side. He sighed happily, hearing the light snoring that indicated that John had just fallen asleep.

"I love you too." Sherlock said with a yawn, closing his eyes and inhaling John's sent.

For the first time in four months, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were without nightmares.


	18. Epilogue The Wedding of Sherlock Holmes

One year later

"Come on Sherlock, we are going to miss our reservation!" John shouted from the lounge. It was the anniversary of when he and Sherlock had become an official couple, and he was planning to propose. He wasn't sure how Sherlock would react, but it just felt right. The last year had had its ups and downs, Victor yelling in Sherlock's head being a big down, but they had made it and John loved Sherlock just as much as he ever did.

He was feeling nervous; compulsively reaching into his pocket to make sure the ring box was still there, scared that he had forgotten it, or that it had fallen out of his jacket pocket.

"I don't know why you insist on eating out." Sherlock complained, walking into the lounge. He was dressed in a sharp suit that perfectly accentuated his hips, causing John's face to flush a lovely scarlet. "I mean if you insist on eating, just order take-away. You know being around that much useless information gives me a headache."

"It's our anniversary, Sherlock. Can't you just deal with it for one night?" John asked, voice stained with a slight begging tone.

Sherlock eyed him carefully, feeling that John was acting suspicious. His hand had a slight tremble, and he kept reaching for his side pocket. Ah, the pocket must be the key. Sherlock examined the exterior of the pocket, noticing a slight bulge the same shape and size as a ring box. He froze, slightly cursing his own deductive abilities. John was going to propose to him tonight, and he just ruined it. Well, he doesn't need to let John know that he knows, he can still makes this special for his partner.

"Yes, of course I can." Sherlock said, demeanor completely changing from his previous rigid tone. "Sorry for taking so long to get ready, but we can leave now if you want." Sherlock walked over to John, grabbing the stunned man's face gently in his hands, and kissed him sweetly.

John was completely shocked by Sherlock's sudden change of behavior. Maybe Sherlock could behave himself long enough to have an enjoyably evening. John's heart was bursting with love and admiration for the detective, and the nervousness melted slightly. John could not comprehend how a man like Sherlock could ever love a person like him, but he was grateful for it.

"Yeah, okay." John said with a blissful smile. He pressed his lips to Sherlock's for a brief minute before pulling away.

Hand-in-hand, Sherlock and John walked down the stairs, out of the flat and onto the street. Sherlock reached up with the hand that wasn't wrapped around John's to hail a cab, but John pushed it down. Sherlock looked at him quizzically.

"It's not that far." John explained. "I thought maybe it would be nice to walk." He smiled up at Sherlock, giving his hand an extra, comforting squeeze.

"Lovely" Sherlock said, flashing John a quick smile before walking briskly, dragging John alongside him.

"Sherlock, slow down, there's no rush." John said, quickening his steps to keep up with his long-legged partner.

"I thought we had a reservation to keep." Sherlock said, slowing his steps. "I don't want us to miss it because I was being a git."

John chuckled light heartedly. "It's okay, really. We will make fine time, just slow down. Relax."

Sherlock nodded his head, turning away from John to look out in front of him. His head swam with the thoughts of every possible outcome of tonight. What if he messed up making it so John changed his mind or what if he gave away the fact he knew so John changed his mind? _Are you even sure that that is what he plans to do tonight? Why would anyone want to marry you? This way, he can escape if he wants to. If he marries you, he is stuck to you for good. Though, not necessarily. He left his last partner for someone else, who is to say he won't do it again? **Shut up, John would never do that to me! **If you say so…_

"Sherlock, are you okay?" John asked worried, noticing the fear etched into Sherlock's face.

"What, yeah. I'm fine. Just Victor." Sherlock said, voice pulling out from his mind. He flinched slightly at Victor's name and his eyes fell downcast.

John frowned, flipping Sherlock around to draw him into a hug. He held him closely, cursing his luck. Victor had not spoken up in a week, and John had really hoped that he would have stayed quiet for tonight.

"Just try to ignore him. Whatever he is saying is complete shit." John said, pulling Sherlock's face down to make them at eye level. "We are going to have a pleasant evening, just the two of us. Okay?" John asked, words pressing.

"Okay." Sherlock said; face breaking into a small, strained smile. He was not going to ruin this for John or himself, he just wasn't. If he concentrated hard enough, he learned that he could block out the worst of Victor's noise. It gave him a splitting headache, but the end result would be worth the pain.

Several minutes of walking in strained silence later, they walked up to a fancy Italian restaurant. Once inside, they were seated in a private corner away from the rest of the patrons.

"I know it annoys you being around too much useless information, so I arraigned for a private table away from it all. Just the two of us." John smiled widely, clearly proud of his accomplishment.

Sherlock felt so happy, so loved, he wasn't quite sure as to what he should say, so he said nothing. He just smiled brightly at John, leaning over to plant a small kiss on the doctor's cheek.

The meal went flawlessly. John ate a plate of spaghetti, while Sherlock was perfectly content with nibbling on a breadstick. The two talked and laughed, reminiscing on the events of the last year and times before. Once the meal was done, John sat back with a glass of wine and Sherlock a scotch.

"This has been a really lovely evening." John remarked, taking a small sip from his glass. "But I want to do one more thing before I take you back to the flat and make it a perfect evening." John cleared his throat, feeling his hands tremble. He could feel Sherlock's intense gaze watching his every movement, and it did nothing to help his nerves.

"Everything was so messed up before I met you." John began, confidence slowly building. "My life was painfully dull, and thoroughly miserable. Meeting you was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. There have been some bad times like when I thought you died, and the whole situation with Mary." He flinched guilty when he spoke her name. "But even after all of that chaos we are here. Together. The last year has been the best of my life, and I never want anything to change." John stood up, walked over to Sherlock's side of the table, pulled out the ring box and got down on one knee. He opened the box, revealing a plain, shiny silver band.

"Sherlock Holmes, will you make me the luckiest man alive and marry me?"

* * *

Six Months Later

John walked in through the front door and heard the sounds of objects being smashed and destroyed. Panicked, he ran up the staircase, heart pounding loudly in his ears. He threw the door open, running inside, full prepared to defend his home. He froze when he saw the source of the noise. Sherlock was sitting cross-legged on the ground, looking at different plates. When he saw one that he didn't like, he threw it at the wall. Bits and pieces of plates scattered the floor all around where Sherlock sat.

"What the hell are you doing?" John shouted out, unable to keep the fear turned anger out of his tone.

"The ceremony is in one week, and we still don't have decent plates." Sherlock said, as he picked up another plate, closely examined it, and then threw it against the wall.

John moved his hand down his face in aggravation, exhaling sharply with annoyance. He wasn't surprised at Sherlock's response. For the last couple months Sherlock had been going crazy trying to make everything perfect.

"You shouldn't be stressing so much about this, I am sure no one will care about the plates." John said, moving to sit down next to Sherlock, moving shattered plate pieces out of the way.

"I will care John." Sherlock said, looking over another plate. He took more time looking this one over, flipping it around and around again, examining it thoroughly.

"This is the one." Sherlock finally said after several minutes of deep thought. "We will need 10 of these. A few extras in case some break."

John just smiled, having felt the anger wash away. He wouldn't say it to his face, but Sherlock was utterly adorable, especially of late with all the wedding planning.

"Okay, I will pick them up tomorrow." John said lovingly, kissing Sherlock with a powerful tenderness that made Sherlock come away flushed.

"Perfect." He said, standing up and walking over to the kitchen table which was covered in different colored pieces of cloth. "Now on to the napkins."

* * *

The week passed quickly, days flying by like minutes, bringing them to the wedding day. Both Sherlock and John were dressed in fine black suits that were tailored perfectly for their frames.

The ceremony was small, beautiful. Lestrade stood as best man for both Sherlock and John, having been there in every step of their relationship. Mrs. Hudson cried when they read their vows, feeling as pleased as she ever had. Mycroft sat in the very back of the room, slight smile on his face.

"I hereby announce you wed. You may kiss your groom."

John looked up at Sherlock and the love that filled his eyes was like nothing John had even seen from him before. He dragged him down, pulling him into a strong kiss as everyone cheered them. Sherlock froze, feeling something strange inside his head. There was a lack of a certain presence. He pulled away from John's lips, smiling shinning like a beacon in the dark.

"Victor-" Sherlock said, unable to keep the happiness from his voice. "He's gone."

John laughed out loud, smiling widely as he dragged Sherlock down into another kiss.

Finally their life together could begin.

**A/N: (I will be making audio versions of each chapter, so you can listen if you don't want to read, and putting them on my Youtube channel. Will post a link when finished. Thank you all for reading this story, I am very proud of it, and special thanks to my Beta: LeahMaeLaugh. Please review! :D)**


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